Mushoku Tensei - Re:Vengeance
by Kaocakeman
Summary: While Rudeus had managed to avoid a devious scheme laid by the Hitogami and went on to live out a fulfilling life thanks to a warning from a time-travelling old man who died shortly after, what became of the old man, Future Rudeus, whose life had been torn asunder thanks to the machinations of an evil God? This is a story of his renewed quest for vengeance.
1. Chapter 1: A Life of Regret

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to its respective owners.**

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 **Chapter 1: A Life of Regret**

Regret - that word summed up the raging mix of emotions I felt as the world around me darkened. Only the smiling figures of Sylphy and Roxy before me offered me any comfort.

"Aah, Sylphy, Roxy… Damn, you sure are as cute as ever…"

Memories of my life began flashing quickly before me. They say that a dying man can see his entire life flashed in but mere seconds.

I'm reminded of Sylphy, my beautiful wife, who had given me solace in her embrace when I was searching for a way to regain my confidence as a man. The mother of my only child, I had abandoned her in my grief as I fell into depression following Roxy's passing. In the end, unable to stand my behavior any longer, she went with Ariel on a doomed mission to the Asura Kingdom. The sight of her naked, cold body displayed alongside those of Ariel's other followers in that city square on that day, and the scene those jeering crowds of vermin as they flung rocks and insults at her, even after I had turned that city square into cinders, that one scene was forever seared into my memory.

The grief I felt that day was only superseded by my anger. Anger at Sylphy for leaving me, anger at Ariel for bringing Sylphy along, anger at the Kingdom of Asura for taking Sylphy's life, anger at the crowd who were jeering as they desecrated her remains, but most important of all, anger at myself.

My own self who had betrayed and abandoned Sylphy when I should have been by her side, my pathetic self who had failed to protect her and failed in his duty as a husband.

I too failed to protect Roxy and doomed her when I listened to that vile, villainous snake who called himself a god.

Why did I ever believe him, I wonder, when my first instincts were always to suspect him? Clearly, such a shady creature who appeared in my dreams right after a world-changing event as the Metastasis Incident was can't be up to any good. In the end, I still cannot fathom the motivations that led him to want Roxy and her unborn child dead. Perhaps he simply enjoyed being an evil god, laughing at the sufferings of mere mortals. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed the experience of entrapping the naive man that I was, feeding such a man hope with one hand while taking everything he has with the other, all the while laughing as that naive man fell into despair when the world around him crumbled.

In the end, I ended up killing Cliff too. Cliff, my friend who had even abandoned his Church and his future in order to help me. And with that death, I had sent his pregnant wife, Elinalise, into despair. And for what purpose? By the time I returned, Roxy's lower body had crystallized. Roxy, my teacher, my Master, my savior, my wife. She, who had believed in me, was no longer alive. I had failed her.

Eris too, who had faithfully shadowed me through the decades of my life. I never realized what she had thought, what she was thinking all along, until it was too late.

In the end, she gave her life to save my worthless self, taking a fatal hit from Atofe's subordinate, Moore, that was meant for me. The anger and sorrow on Ghyslaine's face as she berated me, I can still vividly recall it as if it was yesterday. I've never understood Eris until the end, or rather, I've never tried to understand her.

I didn't give her any of the comforts she deserved. Even if those comforts was something beyond what someone like me could have provided, I could have at least tried to do something for her. Clearly, the only thing I've learnt from her sacrifice was that I was certainly not someone who deserved her long years of dedication. What had started as a misunderstanding on my part had snowballed into fatal ignorance. But even so, I should have at least tried, I should have at least made the effort to understand her. I have failed Eris! If Master Sauros, Master Philip and Mistress Hilda knew what I had done, I'm sure they would definitely be incapable of finding it in themselves to forgive me.

When the Metastasis Event happened, Eris lost her entire family. All the relatives she could count on were no longer around. Yet I failed to become a bastion of support for her just as she had been for me. She who had sworn to become strong enough in order to protect me. In the end, I had failed her utterly.

Adding to my list of sins and regrets were what became of Aisha, Zanoba, Ginger and Julie who were all cruelly murdered for no other reason that the fact that they had followed me, a worthless man who cannot even furnish his friends and family with a decent guarantee of protection. I had failed them too. In a way, it was a laughable example of how low one can fall in life.

All these memories remained engraved in the very depths of my being. In the end, there was nothing left of me but regrets and anger. And I was reduced to but a single overriding ambition, vengeance.

That desire for revenge fueled me for decades as I searched in utter futility for a way to get back at the one who have brought great harm to all those I have ever cared for. In my last desperate attempt to satisfy my thirst for vengeance, I have even leapt through time in order to warn my past self of the kind of future he would have if he were to stay the course. Unfortunately, the imperfect time leap meant that I had only a short while to say my piece before my body expired.

I had given my past self a summary of my past as well as my diary. I wonder if he would even listen to the advice of a suspicious old man. Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I only did that as a last whimsical act of a bitter old man with neither the ability nor the time to exact his own vengeance. It was just for a small amount of pointless personal satisfaction. In the end, no matter what the past me does doesn't change the facts of what I had done.

The only thing I can do now is reminisce in my regrets.

The pregnant Roxy who had crystallized and died of magic stone disease, Sylphy who left me and was killed along with Ariel and her supporters in the Kingdom of Asura, Eris who had died protecting me, Cliff who was killed by poison during our escape from the Holy Kingdom of Milis as well as Zanoba, Aisha, Ginger and Julie who were mercilessly butchered by Milis' Order of the Temple. They had all existed and had all lived. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that the Rudeus I met after travelling through time is the Rudeus of an alternate universe, the Rudeus of a different world line. No matter what he did from the time I met him, it won't change the fact that I had killed Roxy, Sylphy and Eris, and everyone else that mattered to me. But I at least hoped that he could give that damned Hitogami his comeuppance!

* * *

While I was lost in reminiscence, I suddenly found myself in an empty white room. I was instinctively on guard.

 _'Is this...Hitogami's realm?'_ I thought, preparing for the possibility where I won't be able to control myself from trying to strangle that damned queer the moment I saw his disgusting, mosaic visage.

I knew that it would be a pointless exercise anyway, since I cannot touch Hitogami in his dream realm even if I wanted to, I had tried before. Hitogami, however, never showed himself.

But there was another person in front of me. A haggard, tired-looking young man, wasting himself away on bottle after bottle.

The brown-haired drunkard with dead eyes who sobbed in sorrow in between his drinks.

I knew this man, that's right, this was the younger me after my return to Sharia, a scant few nights after I had found Roxy dead. It was the me who returned too late, despite having gotten Cliff killed in the Holy Kingdom of Millis. Yet, instead of cutting my losses and providing a reassuring presence to Sylphy and my family after such a tragedy, I had turned my sorry self into a drunkard, hopelessly searching for comfort at the bottom of countless bottles.

I ran away from my responsibilities. Worse, the younger me of that night ended up sleeping with a whore I met in that bar. I betrayed Sylphy's trust, and ended up sending her away to her death. With my own two hands, I had destroyed my family.

"Why aren't I good enough...?" Sylphy's words the morning after still haunted me. I remembered it clearly, I made her cry.

After that, my already broken family was irreparably shattered into pieces.

The man before me fell suddenly, with a bottle still in hand. While touching his left cheek, he looked towards me, dazed and confused. I had punched the young man there with all my might. Of course, this tired old body of mine wasn't all that it used to be anymore. But it doesn't matter, I proceeded to mount the sorry bastard, confused as he was, and pummeled away at his pathetic face.

"Why?! Why did you abandon Sylphy?! Why didn't you go after her?! When you were reborn into that world, did you not swear to do the best you can?! Was Roxy's death, was Cliff's death not enough for you?! Because of you, because of your stupidity and utter incompetence, Sylphy died!"

"..."

I kept punching away at the disgusting trash before me. The young man didn't make a single sound through it all. However, the edges of his lips began curving upwards, he was smiling while tears fell from his eyes.

The bizarre spectacle left the me speechless, I couldn't bring myself to punch the broken man anymore.

"Isn't it obvious old man? You already know the answer yourself!"

The young man before me laughed.

He was laughing...no... I was the one laughing. Rather, I was no longer where I was anymore.

Finding myself lying on my back, with a bottle in my right hand, and my left covering my face, I found myself laughing hysterically at my own self. I was laughing at the trash NEET who wasted away his second chance, ending his life as a piece of trash who killed everyone that mattered to him.

"I know that already..."

I slowly got up, my face groaning under the pain of those punches I had received from my own self. The bottle in my hand felt heavy, still I resolved to throw it as far away as I can. Upon hearing the clanking noise of the broken bottle, I sat down cross-legged on the floor of the empty white room.

Before long, many more Rudeuses across the different phases of life appeared before me. The Rudeus who was about to challenge the Immortal Demon Queen Atoferatofe, the Rudeus who failed to apologize to Sylphy after betraying her trust, the Rudeus who couldn't eliminate the Millis forces who were after Cliff, Zanoba and himself. There were many other scenes, scenes that clearly showed and reminded me where I had failed.

However, one scene in particular caught my attention. It was a scene of the happy Rudeus who was smiling, surrounded by his family. There was Sylphy who was cradling Lucy, the pregnant Roxy, Aisha, Norn, Zenith and Lillia surrounding him. A picture perfect scene of a happy man blessed by those around him.

"Ahh...I see..."

The reason why my hands failed to protect any of them, it was so obvious after all. It was because I was a contented, weak-kneed, naive slacker.

I had never intentionally sought power, save only enough to keep up with others around me. I had never intentionally sought wealth, save only enough to maintain my comfortable lifestyle. I had never intentionally sought knowledge, save only enough in order not to fall behind. Everything I did was merely the bare minimum needed to maintain the comforting bubble I called 'home'. My sloth killed those whom I loved.

In the first place, did I truly love Sylphy, Roxy and the rest of my family?

No, I certainly did love them, there was no question about it. In fact, I believe that my feelings have yet to change even now.

Though if that was the case, why did Roxy die?

Because the Hitogami tricked me into setting loose a disease-carrying rat that indirectly infected Roxy?

No, that wasn't the reason. The disease was treatable with God Class Detoxification magic.

So why did I fail to get Roxy the written copy of the God Class Detoxification spell in time?

Because I was discovered by the guards of Millishion's Cathedral?  
Because we were chased by Millis' knights?  
Because the battle with them rendered the teleport magic circle we were to use for our return unusable?

No, it was because I failed to kill from the beginning.

Had I eliminated my pursuers from the very start, we wouldn't have needed to fight so close to the teleport magic circle.

I certainly had the ability to do that.

Yet when weighing Roxy's life against my reluctance to kill, what I had once pretentiously believed to be my own brand of morality, my false sense of morality was still heavier. I failed as Roxy's husband then...no...I suppose it was then, that I no longer deserve to call myself Roxy's husband anymore.

In the end, I had put my own prejudice on a higher pedestal than her life.

In the first place, had I worked hard enough to learn God Class magics, including God Class Detoxification magic, Roxy would have certainly lived regardless of the disease.

Sylphy too, why did she die again? Because she ran away from me and followed Ariel into the Asura Kingdom's power struggle?

No.

Was it because I had slept with a prostitute and betrayed Sylphy's trust? That may have been the final straw, but Sylphy was likely wavering even before that.

Was it because I had forgotten and abandoned Sylphy, content to live in my depression and sorrow following Roxy's death?

Does that mean I had loved Roxy more than Sylphy?

It was the uncomfortable question I had been reluctant to ask myself. I've certainly liked to think that I loved both my wives equally.

No, that wasn't it. It wasn't because I loved one over the other.

It was probably because deep down, what I loved more than anything else or anyone else, more than Sylphy and Roxy, was my picture perfect bubble of an intact and happy family.

This picture perfect happiness playing in front of me was always my greatest love. It was because I had been obsessed with the idea of a perfect family, where everyone is happy and fulfilled and no one gets hurt or die untimely deaths, that when such a dream ended with Roxy's passing, I could no longer function nor care for the world around me, and I abandoned those still alive then who had counted on me.

Perhaps it was because in my first memorable life as a disgusting NEET, I had never felt the happiness of being surrounded by a happy family. Well, even if I did have such a life once, I certainly cannot remember it.

That reasoning too...might have just been another excuse.

Regardless, it was an established fact that I was the one who transformed one tragic disaster into an irreparable nightmare.

Roxy died, Syply died...and Eris...

What a joke!

What an utter failure!

Everyone who had ever loved me as a man had died untimely deaths.

Eris too, I never did provide her with even a day of happiness.

She who had lost her family and ended up dedicating herself to become strong for me only to see me reject her outright because of my ignorance and reluctance, my worthless prejudice!

Still, like my own shadow, she continued to follow me and protected me, without myself ever realizing it.

Even when I came to hate her, even suspecting her of being Hitogami's apostle, she never stopped protecting me, through countless years and years. Such boundless dedication, it was as though she was an unwanted Dark Knight, I couldn't help but fall for her all over again when I thought that.

Yet, her reward was death. In the end, I, Rudeus, had repaid that love and zealous determination with death.

I was too weak to challenge Atofe and her crew.

No, rather, I had never seriously sought to become strong enough to challenge those who stood among the titans of the world. It was because I was content even with my weaknesses, believing that I could make up for it somehow or another.

My lackadaisical attitude had left those around me paying the ultimate price.

Had I really believed that I could win against those I challenged with such half-assed determination? Such sloth had eventually proven fatal.

No doubt, it was my sloth that killed Eris. It was my sloth that killed everyone. It was just like what that insane, Archbishop character from that anime said as he kept going on and on about how the MC's sloth was what killed those around him. That was certainly true for me.

Unfortunately, unlike that MC, I know that I'm not some fictional anime MC who gets to reincarnate every time I screw up and died.

But still...It hurts...It really hurts...

To think that being so powerless could hurt this much...

Even when I knew that there was nothing else I could have done, the bounty of regrets I had accumulated can never subside. The memories of my failures continued to carve itself into my heart.

As I continued wallowing in my regret, all of a sudden, there was only darkness.

The white room and the Rudeuses before me were gone and all around there was only an endless pitch black.

 _'Is this hell? That'll be good too. Certainly, I deserve ending up in hell,'_ I stood up and scanned my immediate surroundings.

Certainly, ending up in hell wouldn't be a bad idea. After all that I had done, going to hell would perhaps be a fitting chance for atonement.

Of course, I once again realized that my sins were not something I could easily atone for no matter what punishment I would face. But, being punished would perhaps provide me with a small degree of self-satisfaction. I would do anything for that.

"Child of Man, dost thou wish to fix thy mistakes?"

The sudden voice booming and echoing around have caught me by surprise.

"What?! Who are you?!"

I shouted as I looked desperately for a source of the voice, to no avail.

"What We are is irrelevant. Now answer! Child of Man, dost thou wish to atone for thy sins? Dost thou wish for a chance to undo thy mistakes? Hath thou any desire to relive thy life once more?"

 _'Relive my life once more? Is he implying that he can turn back time, or place me in a similar alternate universe? What a ridiculous notion...though I was reincarnated from another world...and if what the owner of this Voice offers is indeed possible, then what? Do I want to fix my mistakes? Do I want to atone for them? Who? Me? Can my mistakes even be fixed? Can what I have done even be undone?'_

In the first place, whoever this voice belongs to is suspicious. What guarantee do I have that this isn't some kind of trap, or a practical joke set up by the Hitogami himself?

There's no way to tell.

For all I know, if I were to give a positive answer to that, he might suddenly come out and say "Gotcha! Did you think it would be that easy? Stupid!"

But...what the hell, it doesn't matter. For decades, I have long thought that no matter what I did, it won't change the fact that my actions, my failures and my regrets were all established facts that can never be changed. Even if this turns out to be an attempt by that abomination to rub salt on my wounds one last time, I can't deny that the allure of atonement was certainly something I found to be attractive. And then there's that...

Even if it was all just for my own self-satisfaction...I'll take it.

Isn't it obvious?! Of course I'll take it. Even if it doesn't change what I've done, if there is even a minuscule chance that I could absolve myself from that sense of powerlessness that has haunted me for so long, if there is indeed a chance for that, I don't have to think twice!

"I don't know who you are, or what you are. I don't know if you're even capable of doing what you're implying you could do. I don't know why you would even make such an offer. But if I can go back to redo that life once more, if I there is even a chance that I could have my vengeance, I'll take it!"

I shouted at what seems to be the endless empty void. An answer in that booming voice returned almost instantly.

"Rejoice Child of Man! For We have found thee worthy of bearing Our Name. To be so cruelly hounded by a being thou cannot even begin to fathom, yet continue to nurture furious vengeance with such one-mindedness has left in Us a deep impression. Thy life itself is a story fitting of a Tragedy! Yet We hath wanted to see thee bring a different conclusion, and make thine life worthy of an Epic! We are XXXXXX, the God of XXXX. We have deigned thee worthy of Our Blessings and thou shalt hath Our Blessings. May thou turn the wheels of the World and bring down the Hammer of Justice upon the Foul One! Now, go forth my Champion and claim thine righteous vengeance!"

As the Mysterious Being voiced his last words, I suddenly felt as though I was falling into an endless abyss. Not that one can tell by simply looking as the world around me was nothing but a neverending pitch black, yet the terrifying sense of falling from a great height was there. There was not a even a trace of light.

No there was one.

Just one faint glimmer of light in the direction I was falling to. A faint glimmer of light that slowly became larger, until eventually the darkness was no more.

But here, I was suddenly assaulted by the memories of my lives, both of them.

I could suddenly vividly recall once more, as though it was yesterday, the memories of my First Life. My parents, my siblings, the bullying I experienced in my days of youth, my life as a worthless NEET, as well as all the games, books, literature and articles I have ever come across were brought back to me, newly refreshed in my mind.

I too remember once more, all of my Second Life, the moment I was born to two loving parents, the moment I first met Roxy, the moment I first went to the outside world, the moment I first met Sylphy, the moment I first met Eris and the each of the moments when I found them and everyone I cared for dead before me. Such a furious assault by the recollection of my own lives, both of comedy and tragedy has left a swirling mix of emotions within me.

But amid that mix a flickering flame was finding new life, as though fed by all the joy, hatred, anger and sorrow in the world, it is transforming itself into a raging inferno. In the eye of the storm, the wind-fanned flame now threatens to burst forth.

And here, I've decided to renew a solemn vow, that I shall not rest until I have my vengeance! That I would do anything to accomplish that.

As my fall through this world of light continued, a spot of darkness became visible in the direction of my fall. The darkness slowly became larger and larger. The world grew dark and then there was none.

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 **Thanks for reading. This is my first ever fanfiction, but feel free to comment and criticize. Constructive criticism are especially welcome as I'm always looking to improve. Many more chapters to come. Be warned however, that this story will focus much of its energy into exploring and expanding the world of Mushoku Tensei, dealing with the intricacies of politics, economics and warfare as well as the introduction of revolutionary technologies. It will have less focus on adventure and quests. So if that isn't your cup of tea, well...Also this story's Rudeus will be a whole different beast compared to Canon Rudeus given his long decades of bitter experience, so be prepared for a cynical realist character with a penchant for cunning. I may also change the Rating to M in the future for...reasons.**


	2. Chapter 2: Rebirth & Resolution

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to its respective owners.**

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 **Chapter 2: Rebirth & Resolution**

In a large house located within the sparsely-populated farming village of Buena, a young couple was happily welcoming the long-anticipated birth of their firstborn. It was not that long ago when the couple were still fighting side by side as part of the same adventuring party. The young woman had become pregnant following the two's romantic and intimate affair, and it was then that the couple made the decision to settle down in this isolated village. The husband, a brown haired young man with handsome if slightly arrogant features, served the Count of Roa as a low-ranking knight in charge of Buena village's defenses. The wife, a beautiful young woman with a kind and gentle disposition, worked in the village as a healer. The couple waited with eager anticipation as their maidservant was cleaning the newborn babe. The infant, now swaddled in a smooth cotton blanket, was presented before his mother.

"Ru...deus, my son," said the exhausted young woman, cracking a gentle smile as she cradled her newborn infant. Though fatigued, she was grateful that she had been blessed with his birth, no doubt a precious new addition to the young couple's family.

"Oh, looks like he's opening his eyes. Rudeus, this is dad, say hello to daddy," the man excitedly waved his hand in front of his newborn son, beaming a sincere smile.

However, the couple soon realized that something was amiss. The boy had opened his eyes and was looking at them, but he was not crying. They had heard that a newborn baby that failed to cry was likely to have complications with his health. Just as the couple were about to break into a panic, their maidservant, an experienced midwife, intervened.

"Master Paul, Mistress Zenith, may I?" asked the maidservant as she extended her hands.

The young mother, Zenith, quickly handed her son over to her maidservant, desperately hoping that the experienced midwife could help him. While the young mother is a healer herself, her ability only allowed her to return a patient to a previous state of health. That is, she may to some extent heal injuries that was inflicted or illnesses that afflicted an otherwise healthy person, but to change a person's natural state, whether that be to give intelligence to an imbecile or bring to life a stillborn child, is clearly beyond the scope of her powers.

"Please, help him, Lilia,"

The maidservant, Lilia, took Rudeus into her hands and undid the cloth wrapping around the infant. She then proceeded to pinch his hands and softly smacked his buttocks while calling for his response.

"Waaaa! Waaa!" It wasn't long before the babe responded with a tearful cry.

The young couple, Paul and Zenith, were filled with a sense of relief. Their hearts nearly fell the moment they thought that their newborn son might not be able to live for long or grow up healthy.

"Come, let me hold him," the nervous Paul asked of Lilia who was now re-wrapping the blanket around the infant Rudeus.

With his infant son in his hands, Paul excitedly lifted him up in the air while loudly proclaiming his joy. Only once his excitement finally died down was Rudeus handed back to his mother, Zenith, who took Rudeus into her hands and on Lilia's advise, proceeded to breastfed him. And soon, the little infant fell to sleep.

* * *

Rudeus was now snugly tucked in his cradle. After checking that the infant was comfortably asleep, Lilia and Paul had bid him good night. After the two had left the baby's room, Rudeus opened his eyes once more. Looking at the ceiling, he could only ponder in a daze as to the circumstances of what had just transpired.

" _I can't believe this! I'm back?! Paul, Zenith and Lilia are all still alive!_ "

His thoughts trailed back to the moment he opened his eyes to the sight of Zenith's and Paul's smiles. He had wanted to rub his eyes at the time in order to check if he was actually hallucinating the whole thing but alas, his body was wrapped in a blanket. Even so, he couldn't help but cry once he realized he wasn't dreaming after Lilia began smacking his behind. The pain had awakened him to the reality that he was indeed alive.

Furthermore, the fact that he was experiencing exactly what he had experienced at the beginning of his Second Life made it impossible for him to hold back his tears. For Rudeus, the relief he felt when he came to the realization that he has indeed been given another chance was just so overwhelming that his emotions simply overflowed and burst forth into tears.

" _I can't believe it! To think that I actually cried like a little bab- oh wait, I am a little baby now. I suppose Paul, Zenith and Lilia will just have to excuse that. Still, to think that the Mysterious Being wasn't kidding when he made the offer..._ "

Rudeus realized just how much of a debt of gratitude he owed to the Mysterious Being. While he still questioned the motivation and nature of the Mysterious Being, he can't deny the fact that he had been given something he wished for more than anything else, a second chance.

The fact that he was given another chance to redo his life and enact vengeance on the Hitogami was enough to be grateful for, and thus Rudeus made a solemn promise then to repay the Mysterious Being's kindness.

" _I suppose I'll have to think of a way to thank him for that. Though without knowing even his name, it's merely a pointless sentiment at this point._ "

Now that he had finally cleared away his excitement, Rudeus began to direct his thoughts towards the future.

His to do list, whether that be for his time in Buena village, Boreas' estate in Roa, or dealing with the Metastasis Event as well as his plan to contact the Dragon God Orsted, along with everything else, were still in a messy jumble at this point.

But one thing he thought he could start doing immediately would be building up his Mana capacity. And he could do so simply by expending Mana through the casting of Magic. At least that was the plan. Unfortunately, his entire body was swaddled in a cotton blanket. And without the freedom to move his hands, his ability to direct the formation of spells was limited. He could simply wait a few months until he was taken off his cloth wrappings, but procrastinating was something Rudeus was keen to avoid at all cost. He no longer wanted to be caught off-guard because of his complacency. And certainly, more than anyone else, he understood the grim price of such a mistake.

" _Perhaps I should try directing Mana through other parts of my body. With the body of a child, that option should still be open to me,_ "

Mana, after all, can not only be channeled through Mana circuits running along the length of the arms, as conventional wisdom dictate. Although this was most common among magicians given that nearly all magicians learn from childhood to cast their spells through external conduits and amplifiers such as a magic staff, which would forcefully draw Mana, on cue of a spell's chant, through the hands that held the staff, thus forging and enlarging the Mana circuits running through those arms. As most magicians learn to perform magic this way, or failed to learn any other means of performing magic before reaching adulthood, they would not grow significant Mana circuits in other parts of their body, leaving them with only the often-used primary circuits running along their arms, or more specifically, the arm(s) which held the staff.

So it is only natural then for these magicians to assert that Mana circuits may exist, for the most part, only within a person's arms, running from the acromial region all the way to the tip of the fingers. Even the Magic Guilds sanctioned such view as official fact. Unfortunately, as the procedure of establishing facts through observation and experimentation was never codified in this world, plenty of "facts" like those were taken for granted as true.

And as a matter of empirical fact, Mana circuits can grow along any region of the body with frequent use throughout a person's childhood. After all, with Chantless Magic, a magician gained not only the ability to customize the size, power and Mana consumption of any particular spell, he also gained the ability to decide how and where to channel the Mana coursing through his body. So depending on how one learned to cast his spell, it is entirely possible to channel the Mana to exit as a spell from anywhere in the body, whether it be through the head, feet, torso or even the eyes. This provided extremely valuable advantages in combat, as enemies would have no way to tell where a spell was directed or from where it would materialize.

Of course, Rudeus himself was never able to cast magic in such a manner throughout his Second Life, given that he was already too old by the time he recorded these findings.

He knew of it, however, from experimenting on the children he had taken under his wing as his disciples during the last decades of his life. As he was focused on honing his magical prowess and knowledge during his years of looking for a path to reach the Hitogami, he eventually sought to uncover the roots of Magic itself.

" _This is really difficult. Learning magic for the first time was always a pain but to do it in such an unconventional way from the get go...Despite all that I know about Mana and magic, squeezing one out for the first time never gets any easier,_ "

Rudeus' thoughts trailed back to the 68 years of his previous life when he had made surprising discoveries regarding the nature of Magic and Mana in this world. Most accepted facts on magic written at the time of his birth could pretty much be thrown into the dustbin. For example, even though it was widely believed that magicians who could perform Chantless Magic were but flukes and rare aberrations, the fact was that any person can learn to perform Chantless Magic, provided that the person started learning to perform magic without incantation early in his childhood. Or the fact that a magician's Mana capacity may not actually be dictated at birth, contrary to the conventional wisdom of this world. Rather that throughout one's childhood, likely until around the age of ten, a magician's Mana capacity may grow commensurate to his use each day. This theory was something he had witnessed firsthand early in his previous life.

* * *

When Rudeus started casting magic for the first time, he was only able to perform the spell [Water Ball] three times before fainting from Mana exhaustion.

The day after, however, he was able to cast the same spell four times without trouble and was only tired after a fifth. Though grasping with magic for the first time, Rudeus at the time already had an inkling that his Mana capacity on the 2nd day of practice was worth 6 shots of [Water Ball], or twice the level that it was on the first day of practice. Though as he had no wish to faint again, he had refrained from continuing after his fifth casting. On the 3rd day of practice, true enough, his maximum had increased to 11 times. He cast [Water Ball] a comfortable 10 times that day before retiring and on the 4th day, he was certain that his capacity stood at 21 [Water Ball] worth of Mana.

To finally prove his hypothesis that Mana capacity grew by as much as what was spent the day before, Rudeus only cast [Water Ball] 5 times on the 4th day of practice. And the day after, Rudeus cast [Water Ball] a total of 26 times before fully exhausting himself, conclusively proving to himself then that his hypothesis was indeed true.

This theoretically meant that a magician could double his Mana capacity each day provided that he diligently exhausted his entire supply by the end of the day. It implied that an exponential growth in Mana capacity is possible, potentially without a hard ceiling. The only cap he was able to observe was time, though this was never conclusive.

Rudeus first realized of this when he found that his Mana capacity no longer grew when he was around the age of 10. Of course, it could have just been that he had in fact reached the maximum, physical limit of Mana capacity possible for him at that time and not because he had reached an age when could no longer grow his Mana capacity.

But his observations of his own disciples also showed that they were also no longer able to increase their respective Mana capacities at around the same ages, that is when they were between 9 and 11 years of age. The disciple who reached her limit at 9 years of age was also the youngest when he took her in, at 6 years old. Thus giving her only 3 years of Mana capacity expansion before reaching her limits.

This is in line with the rest of his disciples as far as time spent at Mana capacity expansion was concerned.

Though from just this alone, he had no way to conclude that it was a time cap. But one thing was certain for all his disciples, and that was the fact that they all reached their level cap soon after the start of their puberty. This was one thing that allowed Rudeus to lean closer to the idea that Mana capacity expansion was limited by time rather than a physical limit.

This question is akin to wondering whether a magician, as a vessel for Mana, exist similar to a glass vessel of which size (potential Mana capacity) would limit the volume of water (current Mana capacity) it can physically hold, or whether the limit is with regards to the amount of time available to pour water into an otherwise bottomless vessel (magician).

Given the lack of observation and monitoring tools, this was a question that would in no way be easy to answer. Perhaps both these limitations in fact exist, in which case to maximize one's Mana capacity a magician must maximize the time time he spent in expanding that capacity before reaching the age at which he can no longer do that, thereby optimizing the time he has to fill a limited glass vessel.

Now, having been reincarnated once more, and to the same life no less, Rudeus found himself with the exciting prospect of getting a definite answer to this question once and for all.

One thing was certain, however, and that's the fact that childhood was without doubt, the most important period for any aspiring mage. It would decide everything regarding the kind of magician one would become. Yet, such findings, while having very important practical purposes in developing a magician's power, paled in comparison to Rudeus' greatest find during his previous life, one that touched on the nature of magicians and Mana itself.

It was common knowledge that everything in the world contained Mana, whether it be the animals, the plants or the soil. Even the air itself was thickly laced with Mana.

This was no doubt true, as his own observations and experimentation had contend.

Yet the conventional wisdom which dictate that magicians, like all other creatures, are beings that generate Mana solely through the consumption of food and water, and this generated Mana was the sole source of their magic power was something he had found implausible from the very beginning. After all, there is no way that such an assertion would be able to explain how a man who consumed roughly 4,000 kcal worth of food a day as he did, even Mana-laced as it was, could generate enough Mana from that to cast detonation magic that rival a city-killing thermonuclear explosion, five times a day. The law of conservation of matter and energy simply would not allow that.

Therefore, a magician's Mana must have come, for the most part, from external sources other than food. And to this end, Rudeus had conducted years of observation and experimentation.

He eventually concluded that magicians were unlike most other creatures in the world that simply lived on their own Mana, as the widely accepted notion goes.

Rather, magicians were beings most similar to magic beasts.

Conventional wisdom dictate that three things separate Magic beasts from all other animals, these were their ability come into existence in places of high Mana concentration, the fact that they carry magic crystals within their bodies and finally their ability to unleash magic spells. In all other ways, they were said to be similar to all other animals, such as the fact that they undergo life processes similar to other animals, with an instinctual focus on feeding and procreating.

But Rudeus realized from his experiments that there was one other thing which separated magic beasts from normal animals. And that was the fact that magic beasts were excellent Mana sponges, conduits and batteries.

A horse, among the stronger of normal animals, could certainly obtain Mana from feeding on grass, and that would provide it with enough energy to gallop for 10 hours without rest. That was the extent of power that Mana obtained from food could do. While it was certainly impressive when compared to the horses on Earth, that ability was worlds apart compared to what a magic beast could display.

Indeed, by feeding Sokasu Grass to horses, it became clear that their strength and stamina would fall considerably. In fact, to a level not dissimilar to horses on Earth.

Yet the same diet given to a magic beast would not weaken its magic potential by any noticeable factor even over the course of months. Sokasu Grass has the ability of purging Mana from the digestive system by absorbing and passing it out as stool. The fact that magic beasts were not noticeably affected by the loss of Mana in their digestive systems suggest that they were obtaining it largely from another source.

In one experiment that revealed just what this source might be, Rudeus had prepared 3 groups of Zapper Stags, a species of magic beasts native to the Elven Forests with the unique ability of generating lightning from their horns. The first group of Zapper Stags were enclosed within a massive King-class Barrier Magic, which bars all magic spells and thus Mana from crossing through or even taking shape near its borders. That second aspect of the barrier was similar to Manatite stones which disrupt the formation of Mana into any form of magic. Additionally, the barriers also block all incoming and outgoing solids and liquids. The large size of the barrier also served a purpose in ensuring that the Zapper Stags would still be able to perform their lightning attacks during the experiment so long as they stay close to the center of the barrier.

This first group of Stags were provided with their normal diet of grass and leaves but were also fed with Sokasu Grass. The second group were similarly enclosed in a magic barrier but their diet did not consist of any Sokasu Grass. The third group was the control group and those Zapper Stags were neither enclosed in a magic barrier nor fed any Sokasu Grass. All groups were prodded to unleash their lightning magic attacks at regular intervals to approximate their Mana levels over the course of the experiment.

True to hypothesis, the first group of Zapper Stags weren't able to release any magic beyond the first day. They also became increasingly sluggish and docile, though their stamina and activity remained comparable to animals of similar size and make on Earth. The second group also weren't able to utilize any lightning magic beyond the first day but they remained as physically active and strong as before. The third group, unsurprisingly, maintained both its magical ability and hyperactivity throughout the experiment's period.

Rudeus eventually replicated the experiment utilizing his disciples as test subjects and yielding similar results, leading to him concluding that magicians, like magic beasts, were indeed absorbing Mana from an external source other than food. This external source of Mana was likely the air, or rather a gas-state Mana floating in the air. Of course, absent any monitoring tools, Rudeus had no way to be 100% sure, nor could he figure out just how the process actually work, but the experiment nevertheless yielded a most important breakthrough.

* * *

Plop!

A ball of water fell and splattered all over Rudeus, wetting both his cotton blanket and cradle. The surprise snapped Rudeus back from his thoughts.

" _Oooh! Looks like I was able to do it, after all,_ "

He felt a rekindled sense of excitement rising from within himself. Although...

" _Tch, this is embarrassing. Won't it look like I've wet the bed_ now?"

Still, Rudeus refocused his efforts and managed to squeeze out two more [Water Ball] in succession. However, he found himself in quite the pitiable situation at the end of it all. With 3 [Water Ball] having landed right on top of him, he now felt like he was swimming in water given how wet both his blanket and cradle was.

" _Brrr, this sucks. I can't even properly turn my head or body sideways to redirect the [Water Ball]. How am I supposed to explain all this water to Lilia? This can't simply be dismissed as a baby wetting the bed. Wait, speaking of wetting the bed, I probably should leave an alibi now, or it might look or smell suspicious...Ahhh, there you go,_ "

Despite his current predicament, Rudeus was still glad to have been able to chantlessly unleash a spell on the day he was reborn. It might just be one small step for a baby but it was one giant leap for his plans and confidence.

Scarcely a few hours ago, all this would have been unthinkable for him. Crucially, he had retained his memory following his recent rebirth. That would no doubt prove invaluable to him in the times to come.

Unlike his first reincarnation, Rudeus no longer needed to grapple blindly with figuring out the world and what made it tick. While he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he knew everything, he was confident that he knew enough to give him a decisive head start. That said, Rudeus was sure that it won't all be smooth sailing. Nothing can ever be smooth sailing when you're facing off against a God with the seeming ability to see the future.

" _Yawn*..._ _I suppose...most of these will dry off...by the time...Lilia comes for me...I should..be fine...Much more...Sylphy...Roxy...Eris...Hitogami...kill..._ "

Rudeus' thoughts began to trail as the darkness enveloped his consciousness, though not before renewing his vow for vengeance one last time.

It has been a habit of his for decades to renew that vow before the end and at the start of each new day. Just like this, he had long ago resolved to forever nurture the fires of vengeance till either the Human God is dead or his body no longer held breath. Rudeus was soon soundly asleep. And for the first time in countless decades, he was able to experience the most peaceful and serene of slumbers.

* * *

 **Authors Note: Thanks for reading my humble fic. Do comment and subscribe for updates if you found this to your liking.**

 **A couple of heads up. First I will say that I'll be writing, for the most part, in third person. I felt that this would give readers the best overview of the story and counter some of the annoying weaknesses of the canon. That said, there will be a few chapters here and there written in first person for reasons that will become clear in the future.**

 **Second, seeing as how there are very few readers to this category and fic, I've decided to put a little more effort into world-building (hence the info dump in this chapter). This includes mentioning or alluding to things already mentioned in canon, adding details to it and perhaps even retconning some small parts (only where I can attribute it to the characters' weaknesses or mistakes). The end result I desire, of course, is a richer world. I hope that this would allow those who don't remember much about the canon or never actually read the canon, to also be able to enjoy this fanfiction as it is.**

 **On the issue of world-building and possible retconning, perhaps you've noticed that I've mentioned Paul as a low-ranking knight serving the Count of Roa in this chapter. I'm sure readers of the original can guess who this Count of Roa is, and that he was never mentioned as such in the original. In essence, I feel that the original canon suffered from a lack of detail regarding the political organizations of the various kingdom's in Mushoku Tensei's world. This is true even for the Kingdom of Asura which was a center of events for much of the story. You can probably attribute this to the differences in Japan's feudal system and organization (which probably informed the author) to those of the West from which the world of Mushoku Tensei seemed to have been based on. Of course, there were other scarcity of details, such as the issue of religions, trade practices and governance. So in this fanfiction I intend to craft a complex and richer map of the world, including the political organization of the various feudal kingdoms, as otherwise it would be difficult to craft a story involving political intrigue. That richer map, of course, includes proper titles for the nobility who rule in those kingdoms and proper divisions of territories. This meant a lot of work in carving a map of territories, duchies, counties, marches, baronies, etc so I hope for your understanding in the slow update for the early chapters. This is an example of what I meant by retconning. In story, I'll probably attribute the differences in these details to Rudeus' lack of interest in these things before his second reincarnation.**

 **Lastly, sorry for the month-long wait for the release of this chapter. My ideal would be to release one chapter every fortnight but this isn't likely for the first few chapters as unlike the more crucial and exciting (plot-wise) later chapters, going from the Boreas Arc onwards, I haven't written much into the first few chapters aside from basic pointers and skeletons to give me a basic outline to write into. Of course, I also need to spend time carving a proper geopolitical map of the world, even if only a few kingdoms receives the proper details. Hopefully, once I get past these first few chapters, I'll be able to update more quickly and regularly.**

 **Once again, thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3: Butterfly

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to its respective owners.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Butterfly**

The gentle breeze swept silently through the fields of gold, bringing a much needed break from the constant blazing heat of the summer sun.

For a certain infant living within the village of Buena, the days and months had passed by with painful regularity. The infant was seated on the floor of the veranda, attentively watching the mesmerizing sight of golden fields of wheat swaying ever so faithfully to the nudging of the wind. He cast his gaze upon the picturesque wonder, as the clear blue sky hang vigorously over the fields and gentle rolling hills, and the breeze waxed and waned like the waves in the sea.

A feeling of nostalgia was welling up in the child's heart, the scenery reminding him that he had lived here once upon a time, though that nostalgia was also shadowed by a pervading undercurrent of boredom born from the infant's inherent physical limitations.

" _Sigh...I wish something exciting happens soon, this boredom is starting to annoy me,_ " the infant pondered.

More than 11 months had passed since the infant, Rudeus, was reincarnated once more into this world, and less than 6 months since he was permanently taken off his swaddle.

Since then, he had thrown himself into taking the baby steps of learning how to crawl and sit, keen to quickly gain the freedom to explore his own house. This was the first time he had reached the veranda. Although he could very well conduct his house exploration more easily by flying using a combination of Gravity and Wind magics, Rudeus had no wish to give his parents or maidservant a heart attack. The perception of normalcy was crucial if he was to ensure that certain early events, such as the anticipated meeting with his teacher and Master, were to happen without a hitch.

This has meant discretion not only in behavior but also in the practice of magic.

In line with that, Rudeus had so far confined himself to utilizing only a single type of spell, [Water Ball] to fulfill his daily quota of Mana depletion. Needless to say, given his rapidly growing Mana capacity, he has had to shrink the size of each individual [Water Ball] to microscopic levels. Since the increase in Mana requirement for any spell is equivalent for inversely proportional sizes, that is to say doubling the size of a [Water Ball] over the standard requires the same amount of Mana as halving it, exponentially decreasing the size while increasing the number of [Water Ball] has been an effective way for Rudeus exhaust his supply of Mana each day without leaving a footprint bigger than a wet diaper.

That said, he was starting to worry of what would happen when he would have finally shrunk the [Water Ball] down to the level of a single molecule. He could only hope that by that time, he would have been able to walk into the bathroom himself.

 _Tang! Tang! Tang!_

The ringing sounds of a bell reverberated through the house as the hands on the mechanical clock struck 12. It was now midday, and neither Paul nor Zenith was at home.

" _Seeing as how the farmers are still in the middle of harvesting the winter wheat and given this searing heat, this must be somewhere around the early to late part of the 8th Month. I guess Mom must be busy accounting for the harvest. Or maybe she's helping out the other village women with preparing for the coming Harvest Festival. Dad is probably out patrolling as usual...or perhaps helping out the Reeve with security,_ "

Rudeus was starting to grow restless waiting for Zenith's return. A baby needs constant feeding, and he was fast growing hungry.

Zenith had actually taken an indefinite leave from her job at the village clinic following Rudeus' birth in order to properly raise him, effectively moving her healing practice to their home from the clinic near the village market. Needless to say, given the fact that her talent as a user of healing magic was one of a kind in the village, the ill and injured still sought her treatment even though the Greyrat family home was located more than half an hour walk away from the village clinic.

That Zenith went outside even when her son was still dependent on her milk must then be due to something very important, Rudeus reasoned. Something like monitoring and accounting for the harvest on the Greyrat's fief; or perhaps helping out with annual village events such as the Harvest Festival, a festival meant to celebrate the harvest and most importantly to give thanks to the blessings of the Goddess Ailisha.

Although Zenith herself was a monotheist and a member of the Church of Milis, it was also true that most of Asura was not. Subjects of the Kingdom of Asura worshiped a multitude of deities, although only several were prominent across the entire kingdom. Within a typical agricultural village like Buena, the most popular patron deity was Ailisha, the Goddess of Life, Bounty and Harvest. As such, for a foreigner like Zenith who hailed from a foreign land and worshiped a foreign god, respecting the local beliefs and participating in the celebration of its customs was not a matter of faith but simply part of being accepted into the community.

Of course, whether Zenith was indeed helping out with a village event or working on the household accounts was not something Rudeus knew for sure. He could only guess based on his estimate of the the date given the weather and the routine of the farmers working the fields around the Greyrat family home. The only calendar in the house was located in Paul's study and it's placed quite high up on the wall that the crawling Rudeus wouldn't be able to simply reach out and look, at least not without potentially compromising himself.

" _Sigh..._ _Wherever she is, there's also probably no clock to tell her that it's time to return home,_ "

Rudeus lamented the low level of civilization in his old new world.

Although the mechanical clock had been invented by the Dwarves nearly a century ago, it's expense and lack of necessity for the majority of people in the world had kept it largely as objects of curiosity among the nobles and the wealthy few. Of course, large cities and boroughs like Roa, which was the capital of the county to which the village of Buena belonged to, had taken to building massive clock towers in their city centers to provide the knowledge of time to their residents. But for the vast majority of the population who live in rural areas and depend largely on agriculture for their livelihoods, there was simply no need. Their lives were measured in months, seasons and years, not seconds, minutes or hours.

As Rudeus was contending with his ever-growing hunger, help finally arrived.

In the distance, he could see his father riding for home along the unpaved road. Behind Paul was Zenith who was holding tight to his waist as the horse canter ever closer. Having finally arrived in front of the doorway, Paul and Zenith descended from the horse. Seeing the infant Rudeus sitting down on the veranda floor, staring at her while extending his arms, Zenith promptly approached her son while Paul was guiding the family horse, Kalajav, to its stable.

"Rudi, I'm so sorry. Have you waited long for Mommy?"

"Abu-bu! Baba-Aaa-aa!"

Rudeus tried his hardest to convey his hunger to Zenith while at the same time presenting his best impersonation of a baby. There was no way he could just go up to her and blabber a fluent Western Human Language to tell her how he felt. After all. he wasn't supposed to be able to talk just yet.

Aside from possibly creeping out his own mother, he can't even begin to imagine the kind of trouble he'd be inviting by pulling out a stunt like that. So Rudeus could only hope that Zenith's maternal instincts would help her in figuring out his needs. When Zenith picked the little Rudeus up and was carrying him in her arms, Rudeus felt a sense of relief.

" _Finally! I was starting to think I'd sooner chew on grass than wait another minute,"_

But just as Zenith was about to bring Rudeus into the house to feed him, a visitor arrived just outside the fence of their home.

"Excuse me, My Lady, may I have a minute of your time?"

A voice called out to Zenith, prompting her to stop in her tracks. In the village of Buena, "My Lady", would pretty much only refer to her.

Rudeus, however, wasn't happy at the sudden interruption.

" _Now what?! Who's the slimy little maggot who dared interrupt my long awaited meal time?!_ " the boy wondered.

Turning to look for the source of the voice, Zenith found 2 men standing right in front of the gate of the Greyrat family home. She recognized one of them, Anthony Bach, one of the serfs toiling the family's fields. However, Zenith couldn't recognize the other man. She approached the waiting men, wanting to quickly dispense with the business.

"Anthony, is there something you need? Also, I don't believe I recognize the gentlemen standing beside you," Zenith asked.

"Ah yes, My Lady. This is Mr. Ackerman, he was recently appointed by the Lord Count to replace the Old Man Hubert," the serf responded.

The last part of Anthony's statement had Zenith's curiosity piqued. Like her husband, she knew the old Mr. Hubert Hernatus quite well as the man had served as a local officer of the Count of Roa since long before Paul & Zenith even settled down in the village.

"I am Faust Ackerman, at your service, My Lady," the stranger introduced himself with a bow while removing his hat.

"Zenith Greyrat, pleased to meet you. Now to what do I owe this pleasure?" Zenith asked.

"Ah yes, I've recently been appointed by the Lord Count to replace Mr. Hubert as a Reeve to oversee the serfs and freemen who work the Lord Count's land in this village. I was wondering if Sir Paul is at home as I need to discuss with him the issue of security during the harvest as well as for the transportation of the Lord Count's dues to Roa in the coming weeks," Faust explained.

"My husband is currently in the stable, he should be here in a minute," Zenith explained. "Would you like to wait in the house? We've recently received a new stock of tea leaves from Shirone, I'm sure you'd find them quite soothing," she continued.

"Very well, allow me to take you up on the offer, My Lady," Faust agreed.

"Well then My Lady, it's time I should get back to the fields," the serf then said.

"Certainly, Anthony. And thank you for bringing Mr. Ackerman here," Zenith noted.

As the serf, Anthony Bach, left to continue his work in the field, Zenith welcomed the new Reeve, Faust Ackerman, into the living room and had Lilia prepare some tea and snacks for them while they waited for Paul.

In Asura, Reeves like Faust were appointed by the lords to oversee the serfs and freemen working their agricultural estates.

During harvests in particular, they and their team of assistants also function as tax collectors to ensure that the serfs and freemen paid the proper portions of their harvest as rent.

Land ownership itself wasn't widespread throughout the known world, particularly in human kingdoms and principalities. Aside from the boroughs where burghers of sufficient wealth and upright standing were granted the privilege of purchasing their own property, as was the case for Rudeus himself back when he was living in the City of Sharia during his previous life, nearly all land outside of that were owned by either the king or his nobles who were enfeoffed land in vassalage, or held by knights under feudal tenure.

The latter case was true for Rudeus' father, Paul Greyrat. Serving the Count of Roa as a low-ranking knight, he was paid his knight's fee, or fief, amounting to 3 gentis of farmland, aside from the large 2-story wooden house on a 2,500 sq meter plot of land that was provided as a bonus. A genti is a measurement of land area used in Asura, created initially to measure a knight's fee, with each genti amounting to 60 hectares. Up to around 200 years ago, a low-ranking knight's fee amounted to just 1 genti with senior knights paid between 3-5 gentis. Since then, due to the development of arms and armor, and their increasing expense, a low-ranking knight was generally provided with 2 gentis and a senior knight with between 5-10 gentis as his knight's fee.

Aside from a fief amounting to 3 gentis, equivalent to a total of 180 hectares of agricultural fields, Paul was also provided with 9 households of serfs to work his land.

These serfs were neither free men nor slaves. They were bound by feudal obligation to toil the land of their lord in return for his protection. Serfs, unlike freemen, were not allowed to leave the land of their lord without his consent and were even required to seek his permission to marry. But unlike freemen, they may not be kicked out of the lord's land except by the lawful judgement of the court on charges of serious crimes, such as rebellion.

Freemen, on the other hand, were free to live in the borough or the country and partake in any trade they so desire but their land tenure were less secure than serfs and they may be kicked out of the land at the whims of the lord after the end of their short contract periods.

Unlike the short contract periods of freemen though, knights like Paul held their land in perpetuity, and the tenure could also be hereditary should the knight be able to provide a male heir to serve the lord and his legitimate heir as a knight.

As for the workload of the serfs, they were hard but not unmanageable. While 180 hectares may seem a lot for 9 families of between 4-6 members to work, they were greatly aided by the fact that Paul also owned 4 oxen and 2 iron plows as well as other farming implements. Most importantly, only two-thirds of the land had to be worked on any given year and they also have different schedules.

Like most human kingdoms, Asura practice the 3-field system of agriculture where every genti is divided up into 3 fields. In any given year, one field would be sown with a grain crop such as wheat, one with legumes such as lentil, peas and beans, with the third field being left to lie fallow. This would be rotated in succeeding years. A field that grew grain in year one would grow legumes the next, and be left fallow the year after. This practice was meant to safeguard the fertility of the land and has been in use in Asura for over 300 years. It was one of the reasons why Asura had the most productive farms, and by extension, the most prosperous society in the known world.

The other reason would be Asura's geography.

The question as to why Asura encompasses the most fertile lands in all of the known world was something Rudeus had once contemplated.

He eventually reasoned that it was due to the existence of the Red Dragon Mountain Range and the direction of the planetary wind, which he found that across the known world, blew from West to East. These Westerlies carried clouds of evaporated water from across the ocean west of Asura eastwards. As they approached the tall and imposing Red Dragon Mountain Range, the Orographic lift rapidly condensed the water vapor, forcing it to fall as rain on the western side of the mountain range, feeding vast quantities of water into the dozens of major rivers and their tributaries that crisscross across the surface of the kingdom.

While the relation between the Westerlies and the Red Dragon Mountain Range was probably unknown to anyone other than Rudeus, it was also true that the Kingdom of Asura had often been called by many as the Kingdom of Rivers, or a Kingdom in the Cradle of the Red Dragon Mountain. Indeed, the insurmountable Red Dragon Mountain Range had protected and nurtured the Kingdom of Asura, providing it with over 400 years of nearly uninterrupted peace and prosperity.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the hundreds of petty kingdoms, minor principalities and tribes that lie east of the Red Dragon Mountain Range, in an area known as the Strife Zone. As the eastern side of the Red Dragon Mountain Range lay within the rain shadow region, the Strife Zone receive far less in the way of precipitation than Asura. This is not to say that the landscape is at the level of being desertified but it was most definitely an arid region, not too dissimilar from the Mediterranean region on Earth. The relative lack of water, particularly in the central parts of the Strife Zone, created an infertile land which lead to scarcities that encourage wars and conflicts as a means of survival.

* * *

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. I heard from Lilia that you called for me,"

Paul finally arrived at the living room, giving his usual goofy smile while scratching the back of his head. Zenith, having become increasingly impatient by the long wait, had eventually sent Lilia to call for him.

" _Finally, took your damn sweet time didn't you? Just what were you doing with Kalajav in the stable, father?!_ "

Rudeus wasn't happy at all at the long delay. It was longer than the "minute" Zenith mentioned.

"Ah yes, darling, this is Mr. Faust Ackerman, the new Reeve appointed by Lord Philip."

"Faust Ackerman, a pleasure to meet you, Sir Paul,"

"Oh, Philip sent you? But what happened to Old Man Hubert? I heard he went to Roa last week. It couldn't be that he is in trouble, is he?"

"...About that, Sir...Mr. Hernatus was recently wounded as his carriage was attacked and robbed by bandits when he was en route to Roa. Thankfully, as he was found by locals not long after the incident, his life is not in any immediate danger. He is currently in Roa undergoing treatment at the Count's mansion. Unfortunately, as Mr. Hernatus was crippled by the incident, having lost his right leg and left arm, he was deemed as no longer capable of carrying out his duties as Reeve. Thus, the Count saw it fit to appoint my humble self as his replacement,"

Paul's and Zenith's eyes looked downcast as they listened to the tragedy that had befallen the elder.

For Paul, the old man was someone he often had to work with. Given that both were officers appointed directly by the Count of Roa, they eventually developed a sense of camaraderie. And as Old Man Hubert was also not a stickler for stuffy rules and etiquette, Paul had found in the old guy a kindred spirit with whom he can share his troubles, along with plenty of drinks.

For Zenith, Mr. Hubert was the man who welcomed them into the village. As the village chief was typically appointed by the villagers themselves, they were unlikely to be in a position to know of Zenith's and Paul's arrival to the village. It was a man like Mr. Hubert, who had correspondence with the Count, who knew of their arrival to the village in advance, and thus had prepared to welcome them. Mr. Hubert not only showed them around the village, he even prepared a welcoming party to help Paul and Zenith to settle in and get to know their new neighbors. As a woman a long distance away from home trying to settle down in a foreign land with alien customs, to be made to feel so welcome soon after her arrival was something Zenith was immeasurably grateful for.

"...I see, so something like that happened...Still, knowing the Old Man Hubert, I find it difficult to believe that he could be taken down by a few bandits," Paul voiced his disbelief.

"It seems that it was not a mere few bandits. Eyewitnesses who found Mr. Hubert had reported finding the bodies of 8 others, presumably members of the bandit group, between the road and where they found the wounded Mr. Hubert, who was apparently lying a few hundred meters from where his carriage must have been attacked,"

"I presume his carriage is also gone?" Paul asked the new Reeve, to which the man nodded.

"Sigh...the road between here and Roa have long been thought of as safe, so no one's really paid heed to moving in armed caravans anymore unless they're coming from or going through to faraway places. To think that bandits would now appear to prey on unsuspecting travelers. It seems security for transporting the harvest to Roa this time needs to be tightened," Paul griped.

"Indeed, Sir. That is exactly what I had come to discuss," Faust confirmed.

"Very well, let's discuss the details. My wife apparently said that this year's harvest looks to be more bountiful than usual, so I hope we have enough carriages to keep it down to 3 round trips to and from Roa. Also — "

"Ahem, in that case, darling, I shall take my leave. I've been keeping Rudi from his meal for long enough. So, if you'll excuse, darling, Mr. Ackerman,"

Zenith bid the two men farewell as she entered the baby room on the first floor to finally feed the now-famished Rudeus.

As the infant Rudeus began hungrily sucking on his mother's bountiful teat, he was finally able to regain his calm mood.

" _At last! Whew, that took a while, didn't it? Dad and mom sure took their time, but the biggest offender was definitely that slimy maggot Fa-whatchunameit...What was his name again? Fa..Fa..Faus, Faust Ackerman, was it? What's with his slimy gestures and deliberately non-offensive words and body language? He reminds me of a certain self-proclaimed pacifist from my previous life, what's him name again? Hmmm...well, whatever. Still, that Faust is Buena's new Reeve, huh? New Reeve...huh?! New Reeve?!_ "

After finally calming down, Rudeus finally realized that he had ignored a huge error. While a stranger whom Rudeus never knew coming to see Paul or Zenith shouldn't be unexpected given that during his previous life, Rudeus had confined himself indoor for his first 3 years, Faust Ackerman was definitely different. He didn't remember knowing the Reeve of Buena who goes by the name of Faust Ackerman. As a matter of fact, the Reeve of Buena whom Rudeus met for the first time when he was 5 years old was none other than...

" _...Hubert Hernatus, Old Man Hubert. Damn it, what does this mean? Does it mean that Faust Ackerman was also a Reeve of Buena but was replaced when the previous holder of the post, Old Man Hubert, finally recovered from his injuries? Does that mean Faust Ackerman was a temporary Reeve whom I've never met previously?_ "

Rudeus realized that his assumptions were unlikely to be true.

In general, Reeves were appointed practically for life. That is to say, so long as they were able, competent and trustworthy, Lords would generally keep them. And retiring someone from their position to be replaced by someone whom they've already replaced was unheard of. Also, if Faust Ackerman had indeed been a Reeve of Buena during his previous childhood, even if only temporarily, his parents should have at least mentioned him once, but that was never the case.

As a matter of fact, from the moment he started to understand the language spoken by his parents when he was 6 months old, the only names he has ever heard being mentioned next to "Reeve" was "Mr. Hubert Hernatus" or "Old Man Hubert". More importantly, something about the Faust's body language had been ticking Rudeus off since he first saw him, but Rudeus just couldn't pinpoint what it was. Nevertheless, it was becoming clear that this was something that never happened in his previous reincarnation.

The implication of Faust Ackerman's existence as a Reeve of Buena was alarming, regardless of whether the man's intentions were benign or unkind.

" _Eh? Huh? What does this mean? I'm sure I haven't done anything different. Well, nothing that should have such a large impact. I've been doubly sure to check my behavior at all times and ensure they conform to what I remember doing before...for the most part...I'm sure. Are things really changing from what happened before? Already? What? How? Why?_ "

Panicked, Rudeus was choking on his milk as cold sweat began to form on his forehead and back. He doesn't want to believe that he had already passed a fork in the road and taken a different path from the one he traveled before. If he can't rely on his greatest advantage, foreknowledge, for at least the first several years of his life, planning the road ahead was going to become extremely difficult. And there would be doubts if he could actually successfully meet and gather the companions he needed at this rate. It was clear that he would need the help of a lot of people if he were to take on a task as arduous and insurmountable as killing a god. Being able to meet these potential companions at a place and time where he knew they would be was crucial to this plan.

"There, there, Rudi. I'm sorry, I know that you're hungry but you shouldn't be drinking too fast,"

Zenith began rubbing Rudeus' back as she started singing a lullaby to calm her son.

" _That's not it, Mom. You don't understand. My plans are potentially ruined now! I don't even know what's what anymore. How much commonality would there even be 5, 10 years down the road? How would I meet Orsted if I can't approximate his location? Would I be able to find Ruijerd? Cliff? Zanoba? Nanahoshi? Will I even meet Roxy, Sylphy and Eris? Will Aisha and Norn even be born? Damnit all! Why? Why? Why? WHY?! How?! I haven't changed anything! Is this what they mean when they talk about the "Butterfly Effect"? Ahhhh!_ "

Rudeus closed his eyes as he tried to organize his thoughts. After finally calming down a little, Rudeus began to think that his initial worry might have been a tad bit exaggerated. He cannot simply assume that everything would be different based on a single instance of change. In the first place, things like the fact that Sylphy was born in the village of Buena, or that Eris was the granddaughter of Rudeus' Great-uncle were likely things that won't change. The locations of some of them wouldn't change easily either while others will still require his interactions to bring them to a place and time he can predict. Of course, the longer he stayed in this world, the less similar it would become to his previous one as his own interactions change the events around him.

" _Interactions, huh? Interactions, interactions...interactions...interactions...Eh?_ "

Rudeus' eyes began to open wide as he was thinking of the potential results of this "Butterfly effect", what changes can be considered reasonable and what couldn't. In all of this, his own role was clearly paramount. For in the sea of constants, he was the only factor that could effect change. It was reasonable to assume that he was the only person who remembered the previous world, the only person who was reliving life in this world, him and no one else. Especially in this early stage, just 11 months since he was reborn, the differences that occur from his memory likely has a direct cause & effect correlation with his own actions. That the current Reeve of Buena, Faust Ackerman, replaced Old Man Hubert because the old man was critically wounded by bandits was something Rudeus found difficult to link to his own actions.

 _"In the first place, bandits wouldn't just attack caravans in an area as soon as they arrive. They would have scouted the highway, its security and its travelers long before conducting any attacks. So this was likely months in planning. Additionally, Old Man Hubert was a retired veteran who served as an officer in Philip's army. Even alone, taking him down was definitely not an easy task. The fact that 8 of those bandits were dead, yet they still managed to take him down suggest that the bandits might number at least a dozen and up to 2 dozen. It's unlikely that I could have done anything to move 2 dozen bandits over to prey on the highway between this village and the City of Roa, especially not a few months ago._

 _Additionally, there's a question regarding the identity of this Faust Ackerman. Since he was chosen as a replacement for Old Man Hubert, who oversaw one of the villages in a barony closest to the City of Roa, he was likely someone trusted by the Count of Roa. So it was unlikely that this man had only been at my Granduncle's side since only yesterday. Even for an exceptional commoner, earning the trust of a noble worth his salt takes time. That might have taken at least several months if not years. It's doubtful that I could have done anything to push for Faust Ackerman to serve the Count of Roa when I was still an immobile baby, even now that shouldn't be possible. So, his actions must be independent of mine, in which case he might also have been a constant that existed in the previous world as well. And if he were such a trusted individual to the Count, then I should have at least heard of him during the lectures I was given by Philip regarding his demesne. Yet that wasn't the case._

 _And the conduct of this bandit attack most definitely stinks. In the first place, would any group of bandits who had successfully robbed a carriage leave any survivors that they do not kidnap? Especially a man who was already crippled and bleeding, someone who had already killed 8 of their comrades, why would they let him live? Even among thieves and outlaws, there should have at least been a small sense of camaraderie, Tris and her crew were certainly that way. And why would these bandits risk Old Man Hubert surviving and thus reporting them to the authorities, potentially bringing armed retaliation against them? Unless...unless...the bandits had something to gain from the report being made?_

 _Despite losing an arm and a leg, Old Man Hubert didn't die of blood loss, implying that he was saved almost immediately after the attack._ _And the timing...the fact that he was crippled right as the harvest started must have forced the Count to appoint a replacement right away rather than await for a more reasoned deliberation, as he had to prioritize safeguarding his revenue. So Philip must have been forced to choose someone who was available nearby that he can send to replace the Old Man Hubert immediately. What are the chances that a group of bandits that didn't exist in my previous life, attacked a carriage belonging to the Reeve of Buena, leaving the man alive so that he can get to the City of Roa for treatment as soon as possible and report of the incident to his lord, who would then be forced to appoint a replacement from among those close by, conveniently someone whom I didn't know ever actually served the Count of Roa in any important capacity? What are the chances that that's a coincidence?_ "

Large beads of sweat began to form on Rudeus' forehead. No matter how he looked at it, he cannot simply dismiss them as a coincidence. And if they were all part of the same conspiracy, the fact that they didn't exist in his previous life meant that he must have somehow been responsible for them happening, directly or indirectly.

Yet he cannot fathom how something that must have required months of preparation could have been sparked by him.

He was starting to worry whether this Faust Ackerman and the bandits were really driven by personal gain that had nothing to do with him. Perhaps they only intend to take over the position of Reeve of Buena through Faust Ackerman, who might be one of their numbers, so that they may skim off some of the revenue earned during the harvest seasons. Yet why would one take on such risks? Reeves are rather well-paid, there are checks in place on something as important as revenue-collection, and lords were known to be especially cruel in punishing those who dared deprive them of their revenue. Death would be the least of their concerns.

" _Nah...must be a coincidence...And they're definitely not going for me...nope,_ "

It was slowly starting to dawn on the infant that he had probably triggered a death flag. His life this time might actually be running on Legendary difficulty.

A word that reminded him both of his past and denote the mortal targets of his vengeance surfaced for but a moment in his mind.

" _Apostle...Faust Ackerman couldn't be Hitogami's apostle, could he?_ "

At that moment, in the garden of the Greyrat family home, a beautiful blue-winged butterfly took off from its perch.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Howdy readers! Thankfully it seems that I'm be able to release this chapter a little earlier than planned. The major reason for this is that I've decided NOT to re-read the entire canon once more as I had planned before. I figured that this fic's readers, few as they are now, would more likely appreciate a faster release compared to a story that conforms 100% to canon. That is not to say I will be retconning canon facts left and right, it's just that I might not actually remember a few bits and pieces. Of course, I'll do what I can to minimize these errors. So, given the case, I may ask for some confirmation on this segment from time to time just to make sure my canon knowledge hasn't actually rusted too much.**

 **So here's some of the questions: As far as I know, there was never any mention regarding how the calendar worked in the world of Mushoku Tensei, that is to say, how many months there are in a year and how many days there are in a month, is this true or false? If false, and the way the calendar worked has actually been mentioned, do tell me in which chapter(s) I can find those details. Second question, there were never any mention regarding the birth dates of Rudeus, or any of the other characters in canon, true or false? If false and those dates have been mentioned, again, please point me to the chapter(s). Third, there was never any mention regarding the visible celestial bodies, for example, the number and names of the moon(s), true or false? Fourth, while it has been mentioned in canon that the sentient beings inhabiting the world of Mushoku Tensei came from 7 worlds governed by 7 gods bla, bla, bla, aside from the Church of Milis, there was never any mention regarding the contemporary organized religions of the world, particularly the pantheon of deities presumably worshiped in Asura (if I'm not mistaken, it was implied that Asurans or rather outside of Milis, most inhabitants of the world of Mushoku Tensei were polytheists), true or false? If false, and canon had indeed written the names and qualities of the deities, do point me to the chapter(s) these were mentioned.**

 **All right, these are the 4 questions I desperately need an answer to so that I can confidently release the next chapters without having to go back for editing after release. Since I've skimmed through the canon without finding any mention of a calendar system, dates of birth, celestial bodies, as well as deities and organized contemporary religions aside from the Church of Milis, I've been working on creating a calendar system, character birth dates, celestial bodies and a contemporary pantheon of deities worshiped in Asura. This would become crucial if a rich picture of the attitudes and customs of the peoples, particularly of the people of Asura (Asura being the focus of events through much of this fic), are to be presented.**

 **And for those wondering, yes, Faust Ackerman is an original character. So is the Old Man Hubert mentioned in passing in this chapter. In fact, Old Man Hubert is a character from "canon", that is to say someone who was supposedly known to Rudeus but "offscreen" during the events of the "canon" storyline. Also, there will be another original character introduced next chapter.**

 **As always, I give you thanks for reading this humble fic. Adios, till the next chapter!**

 **P.S. As an aside, should I use My Lord/My Lady or Milord/Milady, either way is actually acceptable as far as I'm concerned but tell me what your preference is so I can make sure to keep to one style. Also, should I use Japanese terms and suffixes (for example calling Roxy "Sensei" instead of "Teacher" & "Master", or having Zanoba call Rudeus "Shishou" instead of "Master")?**


	4. Chapter 4: The Rewards of Harvest

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to its respective owners**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Rewards of Harvest**

Buena village was in a festive mood. It was now the 20th day of the 9th Month, the day of the autumn equinox, one of the most important dates in the 420-days long Armored Dragon Year calendar. It was also the day that marked the start of the 3-day long harvest festival. A day when all residents of Buena, be they serfs or freemen, could drop their hoes, rakes and pitchforks, and become part of the auspicious thanksgiving celebration.

Of course, some fields where spring crops such as peas and beans were grown still have a bit more harvesting to go, but this didn't stop anyone from postponing such activities until they had partaken in the festivities.

In a beautiful green meadow not far from the center of the village, more than a hundred and fifty villagers were gathered together in celebration.

As the 37 households that comprised the village of Buena live quite far apart from one another, events like this were precious rare moments when they would be able to come together as a community.

Men and women as well as boys and girls, having put on their best tunic dresses and wears, were merrily dancing a well-practiced choreography to the tune of the folk music, jumping and tapping their feet to the rhythm as they linked their hands, while they circled round and around.

Right outside the massive ring of spectators clapping and cheering along to the festive folk dances, numerous men and women, young and old, were gathered together to partake in the seemingly endless supply of ale, sold by the village temple for just a small copper per mug at this time of year.

The small market in front of the Temple of Ailisha located not far from the epicenter of the festivities weren't left out either as the few merchants who gathered there were especially eager on this day, keenly turning the wheels of commerce by presenting their best offers and prices.

In a clearing less than a hundred meters away from the festive dances and drinks, a dozen men were gathered together to participate in one of the most popular of games in Asura, a game of archery known as the roving marks. It was a game where the participants would form a single rank and loose their arrows at a target, or mark, a set a distance away from them. This could be anywhere from 60 to 250 meters. After each man had loosed 3 arrows, they would move to the location of the mark, picking up their arrows studded on the ground along the way before setting themselves in a rank right behind the first mark while they target the second mark, a distance away from the first.

This would continue on for several marks, each time the participant whose arrow got closest to the mark would be recorded, with the one who was most consistent in getting closest to the mark, or indeed hitting it, receiving a well-deserved prize. All of the men participating in the competition were using the traditional longbows, all except one.

A certain half-elf hunter was wielding a unique bow of smaller size than what the others were using. Yet said hunter was also, perhaps not surprisingly, able to clinch the prize during the competition, hitting the mark or a spot closest to the mark in all 7 out of the 7 marks targeted during the day's competition, much to the dismay of the other participants while earning the awe as well as applause of the spectators.

Archery has a rich & hallowed history in Asura and the land was long famed for the prowess of its longbowmen.

While not as accurate as the famed Elven archers, their massed volleys could pepper an entire field with a high density of arrows, turning any targets within it into pincushions.

Unlike the other great human kingdom in the known world, the Kingdom of Milis which was famed for its fanatical mounted knights, Asura's armies were centered on massed infantry formations, making use of its vast and seemingly endless supply of manpower to overwhelm any opposition. As such, long before the Laplace War even started, when the Kingdom of Asura was still embroiled in internecine warfare both with other human kingdoms and among itself, the doctrine of war throughout the kingdom had already developed into a focus on the use of massed volleys of arrows to kill large numbers of infantrymen from a distance.

This created a need to maintain a pool of high quality archers, and these archers need to be of high quality and strong given the expense and heavy draw weight of a longbow, and has thus resulted in the propagation of laws and decrees that eventually placed a requirement on every able freemen in Asura, with the exception of burghers, to own and maintain a longbow and a quiver of arrows, as well as partake in practicing in its use at least once a week.

That said, given that freemen and their families in total made up just under 10% of the Asuran population, the number of potential longbowmen these laws and decrees created might not seem that large at first sight. Yet, seeing as how the standing armies maintained by both the Asuran Royal family and the nobility made up less than 0.5% of Asura's more than 34.7 million subjects, the pool of potential longbowmen that can be called up as feudal levies to bolster the standing armies of Asura were thus very significant.

While the cheery festivities were still ongoing outside, Rudeus was brought by his father, Paul, into the village's only temple, the temple which also stood as the single most important landmark in Buena. Rudeus noted that it was one of the only two buildings, the other being the village's main watermill, that was made almost entirely of regularly-cut stone and lime mortar. Even the Greyrat family house was largely constructed of wood, although it was clearly made by master carpenters and was also furnished with slate tiled roofs which were only common among wealthier households.

Nearly every other building in Buena, particularly residential buildings, were wattle and daub structures, though roofing did differ with the more well-off households having clay tiled roofs and the less well-off having thatched roofs. In his previous life, Rudeus had never actually visited the temple until long after Roxy had left the village, given his phobia of the outside world at the time.

This time however, he had good reason not to be left alone with just Lilia at home, so he had "begged" his parents to take him to the festival, extending his hands and "crying" for Zenith's and Paul's attention as they were about to leave for the festival. In fact, his pretend "crying and begging" was so realistic that even Rudeus himself was convinced that it was for real.

Either that or he was indeed crying and begging as the thought of being placed in potential mortal danger terrified him.

In the month since the new Reeve of Buena introduced himself to the family, the man had intruded on the Greyrat family home several times already, each time coming up with the perfect excuse that they were either for matters of business or pleasantries. And each time his precious sanctuary was invaded, Rudeus had made his displeasure known by hiding his face in between his mother's ample bosom.

Unfortunately, the meaning behind his actions had escaped Zenith completely as she often only commented along the lines of "Ara, ara, Rudi is actually a shy boy," while smiling, without ever understanding the terror he felt from the Reeve's presence. Regardless, these untoward actions taken by the man called Faust Ackerman had convinced Rudeus that there was a high likelihood that the man was indeed Hitogami's apostle sent expressly to eliminate him.

Only time will tell whether that was indeed true but Rudeus has no plans of placing himself in a vulnerable position given his lack of knowledge regarding Faust and the threats he may be capable of presenting. Until he knew Faust for certain, Rudeus had thought it best to avoid the man wherever possible.

"Priestess, would you pray for my son, Rudeus? The boy had just passed his first year 5 days ago, so I was wondering if you could intercede with the Lady for my son that he may continue to grow up healthy and strong. Of course, I'm also here to give my yearly tithe," Paul besought the temple priestess, placing an Asuran Gold Coin on the chalice she was carrying.

For a moment, Rudeus saw that Paul's facial expression changed a little, though he didn't care enough to remember what it was. Rudeus was more captivated by the interior of the temple which he had not visited in a lifetime.

Seeing the coin, the priestess smiled and gave her consent, "Of course, Sir Paul. Please come with me,"

Rudeus was placed in a large basket on the altar between the statue of the goddess and where the priestess and Paul stood.

As the priestess and Rudeus' father began kneeling in prayer, Rudeus noticed the variety of items that were displayed on the altar alongside him. There were bundles of wheat, a branch of leaves, a ceremonial dagger and the chalice filled with coins the Priestess was carrying earlier. Most of the coins inside the chalice were Asuran Coppers with sprinklings of a few Silvers and a single Gold Coin that Rudeus presumed was his father's.

Unlike the Church of Millis in the theocratic Holy Milis Kingdom which had the authority to tax a tenth of all agricultural harvest as tithe, the various temples of Asura had to depend on voluntary donations.

The Kingdom of Asura has long had strong secular rulers who jealously guarded their powers. Although they would gladly donate to various temples to showcase their piety, wealth and benevolence to the masses, or indeed to actually seek some sort of divine aid, sharing their birthright over the common people with the ecclesiastical class was a line few would even think of crossing. Not to mention that the multitudes of gods and goddesses that were worshiped by the kingdom's subjects had never been codified under a single coherent organized religion that could pose a direct threat to the secular ruling elite and thus force them into forming some sort of power-sharing agreement with the clergy as was the case in the Holy Milis Kingdom.

That said, some of the most prominent deities had, over time, seen the development of complex myths and legends that tied them together under a single pantheon, showcasing signs of the embryonic development of what could potentially become an organized religion. This was especially the case for Elmora, the Sun God, and his wives, the Goddess Ailisha and the twin moon Goddesses, Seren and Seele. This quartet was so recognizable and each so widely worshiped, that their combined symbol had long found its way into Asura's noble and knightly culture.

In large cities, including the Royal Capital of Ars, many prominent temples had now long stood that worshiped the 4 deities as a group rather than the more traditional patron temples that were dedicated to worshiping just a single divine entity. In fact, it was also the prominence of this quartet comprising the Sun God and his three wives that had long become the theological and spiritual justification for the acceptance and legality of polygyny within Asura and in most other kingdoms and principalities within the Central Continent.

As Rudeus was looking around, he also scrutinized the large and beautiful statue of the Goddess Ailisha, standing prominently overlooking the entirety of the temple's interiors. The statue depicted the Goddess as a beautiful woman with voluptuous chest and wide hips, perhaps attesting to her origins as the Earth Goddess, a mother goddess, and asserting also that as a Goddess of Life, it was in her powers to feed the humans who were her children. She was also wearing a laurel wreathe as her crown, carrying a bundle of wheat on her right hand and a chalice on her left, while a sheathed dagger was hanging by the side of her waist.

As Rudeus has never been the religious sort, the last time he was here, he didn't look around enough to give it any deep thoughts so had failed to notice much of what he was surveying now.

And he was never placed on the altar. It seemed that the altar was also where infants and very young toddlers would be placed when the priestess offered intercessory prayers to the Goddess on the child's behalf. Older children and adults would offer prayers themselves by kneeling before the statue and the altar.

The other items that were also on the altar, the branch of laurel leaves, the bundles of wheat, the ceremonial dagger and the chalice of coins were probably meant to mimic the four holy articles carried by the Goddess Ailisha.

The laurel leaves likely signified her crown and her status as a Goddess of Life, as well as her origins as the Earth Goddess. The bundle of wheat identified Ailisha's authority over agriculture and thus the necessity of her blessings in bringing a good harvest. The ceremonial dagger was something used to slaughter livestock for sacrifice during the winter solstice celebrations, so it might be meant to symbolize cleansing and renewal through the payment of blood, as well as communion between the people and the Goddess. Rudeus knew that blood itself was often used to symbolize life in this world, and as the sacrificial animals were always killed by exsanguination, the blood that flowed into the soil during the act of sacrifice was most likely meant to bless the land with fertility, renewing the life of the land.

This idea of renewal also probably came from the fact that the majority of livestock were slaughtered before or during the early parts of winter, as there would not be enough food to sustain the entire herd or flock throughout the icy season, only for the livestock population to begin to recover come springtime. And as meat from the animals sacrificed by the temples would be given out to residents of the villages or boroughs where the temples resided, it also had the effect of bringing the community together.

The last holy article, the chalice of coins, not surprisingly symbolized wealth that the Goddess brought unto mortals who worshiped her. It also took the shape of the intricate drinking chalices used by the elites in older times to hold ale or beer. In doctrine, the view that fermented sugars were holy was the reason why the Temples of Ailisha were often considered synonymous with good alcohol. In practice, as most of the tithe donated by residents tend to be in forms other than coins, sometimes animals but mostly wheat and other grain crops, each temple dedicated to the Goddess also generally ran a brewery where they would process the wheat into beer or ale, as a way of supplementing their income.

During folk and religious festivals such as the Harvest Festival that was still ongoing outside, some of this alcohol would be sold to the nearby residents for just above cost in order to liven up the sacred celebrations. It was also another way for the temple to tie itself to its local community.

"May the blessings of the Goddess be with you always," the Priestess, now finishing the last recitation of her prayer, took the branch of laurel leaves and lightly flicked its tips to the top of Rudeus' forehead three times.

" _Hoo~..._ _Those weren't bad at all,_ " was all Rudeus could think of. Though, he wasn't referring to the feeling of being touched by the leaves. His eyes were squarely leveled at the sight directly in front of him, at the Priestess who was performing the rites.

Or more specifically, at the Priestess' sizable bust.

As the ritual finally ended, Paul took his son in his arm, "Come Rudi, it's time we see your mother. We can't leave her waiting for too long," and left the temple to meet with Zenith and Lilia who were waiting outside. Though of course, this didn't happen before Paul actually spent some more time chatting up with the Priestess.

" _So much for "can't leave her waiting for too long",_ " was what Rudeus wanted to say at that point.

He also came to realize that throughout the long conversation about nothing of substance, Paul's eyes were shifting around, but most often they were stealing glances on one item in particular. That is, the Priestess' captivating cleavage. Indeed, Rudeus certified that the valley between the Priestess' twin mounds most definitely had even Zenith squarely beat.

" _Sigh...what's with that dirty look you're giving? Realize that you're a father and a husband_ already!" dismayed, Rudeus was giving Paul the dirty look.

"I _can't believe that my old man is such a dirty geezer!_ " Rudeus lamented of his one dissatisfaction, to be born as the son of a young man who has never failed to behave like someone more than twice his age. A dirty old man. Rudeus realized his assessment of Paul couldn't get any lower and his disappointment was apparent.

" _Look, I understand that she has a big, beautiful, voluptuous chest. Large, yet well rounded. And that the tight-fitting clothes she's wearing accentuates the puffiness of her bosom, making it seems as though they would burst out if she so much as untangle a string. And the icing on the cake, that mole on her left breast just 1.2 centimeters from the center of her cleavage certainly added another alluring factor to complement what was already a pleasantly charming asset, yet that doesn't mean you should be...Hmm, wait a minute...!_ "

Rudeus finally realized an important detail that he had missed.

That look Paul was giving when he placed the coin inside the chalice the Priestess was carrying, Rudeus finally realized what it was.

" _You were leering at her even then, weren't you?! Dad, could it be that you planned this all along? Don't tell me that you came all this way to this sacred place and on this hallowed day just to gaze at some Grade A rack?!_ "

Half sobbing inside, Rudeus continued, " _...Yet, why can't I find it in me to actually condemn this? Sigh...10/10 topkek,_ "

In his mind, Rudeus was raising a thumbs up to Paul while shedding two rivers of tears.

The thumbs up was more of a mocking gesture to himself as he realized that deep down, he didn't actually disagree with Paul's actions or motivations when in actual fact, he should actually resent Paul's unrefined behavior that was unbecoming of a respected member of society. He may be disappointed at Paul for behaving the way he did but Rudeus can't say much for himself either.

" _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?_ " was what Rudeus eventually concluded. He realized once again that at his core, he was indeed, without any doubt, a Greyrat.

" _Like Paul, p_ _erhaps I should just be more honest with myself,_ "

And thus, the rest of the festival ended without a hitch.

* * *

Three weeks went by like a breeze for Rudeus. Since he officially became a year old on the 15th day of the 9th Month, he had been more active in pestering his parents and even his maidservant, Lilia, to read him the books that were available at home. Although he wasn't really in need of any literacy instruction, it was important that such actions were taken early on so that he may be able to present plausible explanations for his rapid learning ability and early mastery over language and literacy. Rudeus had every reason to showcase his abilities sooner rather than later so that he may quickly be able to truly explore his actual limits.

He didn't want to keep on pretending to be an illiterate and unintelligible baby for much longer. Although they were necessary to maintain his cover, it was still a tiring exercise. Rudeus had especially wanted to quickly train in those aspects that he was poor at during his previous life. Things like mastery of swordsmanship and more economic ways of fighting were especially high at the top of his learning agenda.

The harvest of the spring crops had also finally ended a few days before. Rudeus' father, Paul, was preparing for his last expedition to the City of Roa. It was one of his duties as a knight to ensure that the caravan of wagons carrying grain and legumes destined for the county's capital would get there without trouble. Everything down to the last bean and pea and grain had to be accounted for.

Not wanting to take any chances given the recent concerns over bandit infestation, Paul was also fully dressed for the occasion.

He was wearing his full combat gear minus the helmet, reasoning that unimpeded sense of sight and hearing were far more important to him than cranial protection. The armor he wore consisted of an arming doublet with mail attachments. On top of that, a metal plate cuirass covering the front and back of the torso and a set of pauldrons made up of overlapping segments of curved lames, riveted to allow for articulated flexibility. The lamellar faulds and cuisses were made of small rectangular pieces of metal sewn onto pieces of hardened leather similar to the _haidate_ in Samurai armor. The poleyn and greaves were made of metal plates, articulated and attached together using rivets. Leather gloves with vambraces made of overlapping metal plates and a pair of sturdy leather shoes along with a cape emblazoned with the heraldic symbol of the Notos Greyrat House complete the armor set.

The metal armor were all lacquered black and some parts, such as the cuirass were even imbued with magical reinforcement, something that most knights would not actually be able to afford. Hanging on the side of of his waist was Paul's most valuable property, his personal custom-made and magically-fortified longsword, Gram.

"Right, you're all gathered here. Well...except one. While we wait, make sure to double check your equipment,"

Rudeus watched keenly from the veranda as 6 armed men were gathered before Paul on the front courtyard.

These men were actually serfs who were assigned to work the Greyrat family's land in Buena. As part of their feudal contract, each household of serfs were required to make available one healthy adult male who would answer the lord's call to arms, meaning that these 6 represent two-thirds of Paul's total feudal levy. They would then have to serve in the lord's army without pay for a maximum period of 2 months a year. As they were farmers by profession, they were generally only called upon into service when their labor were not required in the fields, or when their absence from the farms would not cause significant harm to the lord's revenue.

Of course, the lord was expected to make available to these peasant levies their supplies of food as well as equipment of arms and armor for the duration of the campaign as these represent significant investments that were outside the reach of most of the toiling classes. Paul's men were all wearing gambeson, three were armed with falchions, two with battle axes and one with a flanged mace. All of them were carrying heater shields in conjunction with their weapons. Topping everything off, the men wore various types of kettle helmets over padded coifs. By any standards of this world, they were suitably well-armed for peasant levies.

On Earth, it would have been more probable that feudal levies like these would have been equipped with a variety of polearms which not only provide greater reach but also tend to be easier and thus cheaper to manufacture. In this world however, pole weapons had unfortunately became a taboo in most of the world thanks to the events of the Laplace War. Of course, the idea that a weapon can gain such notoriety as to be avoided simply because it was wielded too effectively and succeeded in its purpose of brutalizing countless victims was a logic that escaped Rudeus.

He simply could not understand given that his recollection of Earth's history two lifetimes ago showed that weapons tended to become more popular the more blood they were able to spill. Only thermonuclear weapons saw a stop to their use and only because using them could spell the end of the world.

A young man quietly arrived at the courtyard. He was sporting golden blonde hair and has a unique pair of long, pointed ears.

"Oh you're finally here, I was wondering if you weren't going to show up," Paul said half-jokingly to the young man whose arrival he'd been anticipating.

"Haha, why wouldn't I be?" The young man responded.

The long-awaited help finally arrived. The village's sole hunter and archer extraordinaire, and the man who had consistently won every one of the village's archery competitions, he was Rawls the half-elf.

"Well, when I first asked you, I had actually thought that we'd wrap everything up just like last year. I didn't expect the harvest would be so plentiful this time as to require a 4th trip...Anyway, I'm sorry, this must be keeping you from hunting right?" Paul regretted having to inconvenience someone who was already preoccupied with other obligations.

Unlike the farmers who were now free from any field labor post-harvest, hunters work nearly all year round with the exception of the coldest periods of winter. While as a freeman, Rawls was still obliged to provide military service to the Count, this was already fulfilled by serving his time as a part-time village watch.

And Paul wasn't Rawls' liege lord either, so unlike the serfs assigned to work his land, Paul cannot compel Rawls to join his band. It was strictly voluntary and a paid arrangement. And as far as Paul understood, hunting can be quite profitable given the prices that meat and furs can be sold for. So Paul was also wondering if it wouldn't be better for Rawls to be out hunting.

Rawls, however, interjected this thought.

"No, not at all, Sir. If anything, I'm thankful for the chance to be making some good coins. Few jobs here pay nearly as well what you offer, Sir Paul," the half-elf answered. "And hunting isn't that stable a job. While I can earn plenty from the meat and fur after a good hunt, it's not everyday that I can come home with big games," the half-elf explained. "Since I have more responsibility now, I'd much prefer something stable so by all means, feel free to contact me whenever you have an offer," he added.

"Will do. Ah, now that you've mentioned it, I heard that your wife gave birth last year," Paul remembered hearing something about it from his wife, Zenith, the year before. As there were only a few dozen households in the village, everyone knew everyone else and so news and rumors tended to travel fast.

"Yes, to my daughter. Sylphiette's her name," Rawls clarified.

"Hmm, knowing you couple, I'm willing to bet that she's going to grow up to be a beauty," Paul commented with a grin. "You know what, when she's grown a bit, why don't you introduce her to our little Rudi over there," said Paul, grinning as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards Rudeus, who was sitting on the veranda behind him, before continuing, "I'm sure they'd make a fast match,"

"Haha, right, I'll be sure to remember it," Rawls vaguely accepted while rubbing the back of his head.

Unbeknownst to Paul, Rawls wasn't actually sure what to make of the suggestion. One the one hand, he's heard plenty of nasty rumors about the Greyrat nobles, on the other hand, given his own experience with discrimination, he was the last person who would presume a person's character based on mere rumors.

However, there were just too many unsavory tales to ignore when it came to the Greyrats. As far as Rawls knew, Greyrat was a name largely associated with the 4 most powerful noble Houses in Asura. These distant cousins controlled the largest territories in the realm and each had themselves branched out into numerous minor noble families, all calling themselves Greyrat.

What made the Greyrats especially infamous, however, were their renown for profligacy. Rawls himself has heard numerous horror stories of how the Greyrat noblemen would scour their territories to find and bed countless beautiful women, especially from the villages, only to toss them aside like a used rag once they've grown tired of them.

While Rawls may be a poor commoner standing near the bottom of the social ladder, in fact, a relative outsider who wasn't even trusted to farm a lord's land, like any loving father, he didn't wish for his daughter to end up becoming a nobleman's plaything. Though, " _if Sir Paul's son can come to truly love Sylphy and would seriously take responsibility, then I'd have no reason to object. But this is just an assumption for quite the distant_ future," Rawls thought. " _I suppose there's no need to think about them now,_ " was what Rawls concluded.

Once the 7 men had all gathered before Paul, he ordered them make their way to the village's main watermill where the caravan was awaiting them while he bid his family farewell before following suit. When they arrived at the watermill, which also doubled as the village's main granary, they noticed that the villagers and coachmen were still loading and accounting the last sacks of grains and beans under the watchful eye of the Reeve. Paul approached Faust to ask about the caravan's preparations.

"So, how's it looking? How soon will we be ready to move?" the knight asked.

"Maximum? In one hour, give or take," the Reeve answered. "The harvest is plenty enough this time that we're having to keep people working on post-harvest processing, threshing and winnowing the wheat and beans longer than usual each day. Since we've been making them work overtime, I'm sure they're rather tired so you'll have to forgive a little tardiness, Sir," Faust explained.

"Well, I just hope we'll be ready sooner than that. These single-horsed, 7.2 ton wagons will take nearly 10 hours to get to Roa at full capacity, not accounting for rest stops," Paul pointed at the 6 wagons that were still being loaded up with the Lord Count's rents, clearly annoyed that they were still not ready for departure. "Unless we leave long before the sun is at peak, we won't be able to arrive before evening," he continued.

Indeed, the four-wheeled Konick Wagons Paul was pointing to, were the most popular and thus prevalent wagon design across Asura. With their huge, 6-ton load capacity, they were also the most cost-efficient wagons when it came to the transportation of goods and people, and were thus favored by merchants. However, they were also exceptionally heavy for the horse. Though, by heavy, this did not mean that the horse would struggle to even pull the wagon, rather it would not be able to go at sustained gallop speed which would be case when pulling lighter two-wheeled carriages.

Of course, the horses pulling these wagons weren't slouches either. The most common and popular breed of workhorses, the Boxer breed, were generally the ones utilized for this purpose. While not known for their speed, these large horses, which in adulthood would stand imposingly at a height of around 195 cm from the base of the front feet to the top of the withers and weigh over 920 kg, were especially notable for their herculean strength. These horses were known to be able to able to pull gigantic wagons with over 30 tons of load, although this will only reduce the speed to a slow walk and wasn't sustainable for longer than a few minutes.

So, generally, wagon loads were much lower both to account for road conditions and to achieve an acceptable speed of travel. When pulling the Konick Wagon at maximum load, the Boxer horse could canter at a sustainable speed of 28 km/h on good roads. This might seem high at first sight, but it's only around 3/5th of its sustained gallop speed of 43+ km/h when pulling carriages weighing under a ton on good roads and well below its maximum gallop speed of 72 km/h on good roads. And given Asura's large landmass and relative sparseness, traversing from city to city would still take a very long time.

"Sigh...what are you being so grumpy about Sir Paul?" Faust asked, amazed at Paul's curious response to a bumper harvest. "If anything, I had thought that you'd be thrilled at the windfall you're getting this year. That we'd need a 6-wagon trip in addition to the usual three round trips of 9 wagons is something to be celebrated," the Reeve claimed.

"Look, from what I can see, of the Count's 8 gentis of farmland in this village, the 320 hectares under plow this year yielded a net harvest of nearly 260 tons of food, after accounting for the seeds required for re-planting as well as weight losses from post-harvest processing. Since 7/10th of that is the Count's rent, that comes up to just shy of 182 tons of food! That's a full 35 tons more than what the data for last year showed! I'm sure this means that you, Sir Paul, must be making somewhere above 68 tons of food from this year's harvest!" as Faust continued rambling on and on, he became visibly more and more agitated. The tone of his voice became more and more forceful while his usual sleepy-looking eyes were opening wider and wider until it became a glare, and Paul could swear that Faust's jet-black hair was beginning to stand on ends.

Faust continued, "Were you to sell that incrementally when the prices are higher, I'm sure you'll be making somewhere in the neighborhood of 75 Asuran Gold Coins! And that's just what you're making from crops! Not even counting your earnings from your many farm animals!"

"Aah, I'm so jealous that what I make isn't even a small fraction of that!" the Reeve lamented. "So you, Sir Paul, of all people, shouldn't be complaining that you have to guard the caravan to Roa for a 4th time!" Faust pointed out.

"Uh...eh...huh?" Paul was stunned, his mouth agape yet unable to voice a response.

He didn't know what to make of Faust who was suddenly listing one number after another in such a complicated way. Paul remembered though, that he'd made nearly 60 Asura Gold Coins from the sale of last year's crops that were his dues. Zenith told him about it.

He didn't know how and when exactly she had sold the crops but he was confident that his wife must have been managing things well. That's why he'd left pretty much all of the stuff regarding the management of the farms and the serfs and the family's accounts to his wife, Zenith, who seemed to be more adept at it anyway, and certainly more interested.

Paul actually wanted to retort how 60 or even 75 Asuran Gold Coins wasn't actually that much given his household expenditures, especially for expenses relating to the purchase and maintenance of weapons and armor enough for 10 people, including himself, whose set of equipment was extravagantly expensive. So much so that he had actually spent almost all the money he'd made from adventuring just to afford those major purchases.

However, Paul held his tongue, realizing that such comments might actually come off as insensitive. He realized that commoners could only see that he was making a lot of money, but they could not understand that _Noblesse Oblige_ was a very expensive thing. Not only did he have to maintain an expensive arsenal, he would also have to make himself available for campaigns for up to 1/6th of the year at his own expense. This include financing the supplies for himself and his own men for the duration of that campaign.

The only saving grace for him was the fact that _Pax Asura_ , the Asuran Peace, has continued to last for over 400 years and counting, saving him from having to be called to campaign.

An hour after, the caravan was finally ready to depart for the City of Roa.

* * *

By the time the caravan had traveled just 1/5th of the way on the 208 km route to the City of Roa, it was already past noon. Paul estimated that it had roughly been an hour since the sun was at its peak.

The caravan was now rested by a small lake, both to allow the crew their lunch as well as give time for the horses to feed and hydrate. The men were eating loaves of white bread, with small slices of cheese along with a pottage of peas, beans and onions they've been cooking in a large, cast-iron pot over fire. Supplementing those were chicken eggs, which were boiled in the same cauldron along with the pottage. The wagon coachmen also shared their small treasure of berries and pickled fruits with Paul and his men. And to top it all off, they were washed down with moderate quantities of ale.

It was a simple yet sumptuous fare, extravagant and luxurious, in fact, by the standards of most of the known world. Most non-Asurans were unlikely to be able to eat the wheat-based white bread as wheat required a fertile and well-cultivated land to grow. As in Asura, most peasants outside the kingdom ate a staple of what their land could grow, though this usually meant dark bread made from rye, or in colder climates, bread made from barley or pottage of oatmeal.

"Right men, we're about to enter the Boreas Highway soon," Paul announced to his men just as they were done with their meal. "It should be smooth stretch from there on, so I don't want to make another rest stop until we get to Cyril village, which we should arrive at by dusk." Paul insisted, referring to the last village in the Barony of Antseil.

The village of Cyril was located right at the border the Barony of Antseil and the Barony of Rubenhild, which is where the County's capital city, the City of Roa was located. The village of Buena itself was located in the same barony as Cyril, that is, in the Barony of Antseil.

Paul assured his men, "If the last three runs were any indication, I don't think there will be any bandit attacks on our caravan,"

Though, after pausing momentarily to look at each of his men in the eyes, he continued, "That said, we should not take any chances!" he stressed. "Therefore, we're changing the guard formation,"

Paul began giving each of his men their new orders, "Anthony, Laurence, as well as Edmund and Bernard, the four of you will take positions on the 3rd and 4th wagon, a pair will ride on each wagon. Make sure to keep your eyes open. Anthony will take command for your section," Paul commanded.

"Yes, Sir!" the four confirmed their orders.

"Siegmund and Klaus will team up with Rawls and guard the rear of the caravan. You will all ride together in the last wagon, so make sure to transfer a few bags of the grains and beans to the other wagons if you need any additional rooms. Rawls, you will take command of the rear," Paul ordered, to which Rawls acknowledged with an, "On it, Sir!"

"Now I will guard the front on my own," Paul continued. "This arrangement should allow for a more consolidated defense of each section. Needless to say, if your section is attacked, remember to shout loudly so those in the other sections can reinforce you. In case of an attack, just do as you've been trained to do and we should all come out of this in one piece,"

Having dispensed with the orders he needed to give to his subordinates, Paul looked at Rawls and repeated the same thing he had been saying during the last three runs, "Right, Rawls, how many times do I have to remind you that I'm not your liege? You should just call me Paul," he petitioned.

However, the half-elf did not buy Paul's request, insisting on respecting their relationship by reminding Paul, "But you, Sir Paul, are a knight and my employer, so it's only right that I refer to you by your title. Also, I don't believe it's a good idea to refer to you any differently from how your men does," the half-elf responded.

"Sigh...suit yourself," Paul relented in resignation.

"Now, as for the six of you," Paul pointed to the coachmen, "Just stop your horses and hide in your wagons at the first sign of trouble,"

"Hehe, we've planned to do that even if you don't tell us, Sir," the six coachmen affirmed.

As the crew were finally ready to depart, Paul mounted his horse and led the caravan on their journey.

The caravan's travels along the winding, cobblestone-paved roads of the Boreas Highway was largely uneventful. There were only a few interruptions such as when they had to make way for a carriage with higher priority, likely one belonging to a noble going by the crest the carriage conspicuously displayed. More commonly, they had to stop at the occasional toll-gates interspersed along the entire route. As the paved roads were only 2 meters wide, or just 1/3rd wider than the 1.5 meter width of the Konick Wagon's bed, no two carriages can ride past one another at the same time.

Even though that was the case, it also would not make sense to invest in building wider paved roads just to allow the occasional opposing traffic to pass one another without interruptions. As such, customs had developed surrounding the use of these convenient highways that gave different road users classification of priorities when it came to the use of the road. In a lot of ways, these customs were simply mimicking common courtesies and unwritten rules of everyday behaviors.

For example, just as commoners were expected to give way to nobles on any city street, so to carriages and wagons belonging to commoners must part and give way to those belonging to nobility. While the 6 wagons of Paul's caravan may be on official business for the Count, they were not actually the Count's wagons. Rather, they belong to merchants of Roa who were contracted during the post-harvest period for transportation duties, so obtain no special privileges aside from waivers on toll charges when travelling the contract routes.

Needless to say, while nobles and their carriages were given the highest priority on road use, military personnel also has priority over commoners, as these highways which had been built across Asura over the centuries were initially conceived in order to facilitate the rapid movement of military personnel. It was only due to the long periods of peace that their economic benefits then became clearly noticeable.

By the time the setting sun had reached twilight, the crew could finally see Cyril Village on the horizon. However, they still had some way to go, having to travel downhill and through a forested area before they could reach the village. Paul also remembered that the last toll gate before Cyril Village was set up in the forest right before a bridge. Once they were past that, they should be able to stop for a rest in Cyril Village, likely for the night as travelling the roads at nighttime was never recommended even in peaceful Asura.

Aside from the unlikely threats posed by bandits attacking at night, there were also the occasional appearance of nocturnal Magic Creatures which tended to be rather dangerous predators. These Magic Creatures were, in fact, far more likely threats than bandits. And while Asura may not be a land infested by these perilous beasts, it was still not completely free from them either.

As the caravan finally neared the last toll gate right before Cyril Village, Paul's men began to disembark from their wagons. While the crew were holding on to waiver passes, these were individual passes, or in the case of the coachmen, personnel and carriage pass. So to speed up processing, it was better to get out from any carriages and show the pass to the collector who would have to walk up to each individual, check their passes and stamp the records.

They would also often check carriages to ensure that no person was being smuggled without paying. Recording these transactions were especially meticulous because the right to charge toll on the highways was a very lucrative business. Lords grant these privileges to villages or towns that straddle the highway which then had the legal obligation to maintain the roads. And while these town and villages would earn income from the toll charges, lords would still demand a portion of the proceeds for granting those privileges in the first place. Hence a rather complex system of records was established to ensure that all sides can obtain what was their due.

The caravan finally stopped at the toll gate just as a toll collector exited the administration building. Every toll gate was furnished with one of these buildings which were necessary as a place for the collectors to live in, as well as to store both the payments, which can sometime be in kind rather than coins, as well as transaction records. The man gingerly approached Paul while greeting him.

"G'day Sir. Here on your way to the market at Cyril, perhaps?" the man greeted.

"No, Roa actually. The city, I mean," Paul answered cordially. "We have passes for a waiver on the toll," he added.

"Right, let me go get the record book," the man said, before turning to head back towards the building. However he was stopped shortly by Paul who wanted to ask a question.

"Wait, what happened to Gil?" Paul asked.

"Pardon me, Sir?" the man slowly turned his head, seemingly confused.

"You know, Gil, the young man who was usually here along with the old man, Jason," Paul clarified.

The collector then smiled while nodding his head. "Oh, yes, the Old Man Jason seemed to be feeling a little under the weather. So he is now resting in the village with Gil looking after him. And they've asked this humble servant to watch the toll gate for the day,"

"I see," Paul quipped, his expression clouded over.

The privilege of managing the toll gate before Cyril Village fell to none other Cyril Village itself. Paul knew that. He also knew that the village was supposed to appoint trusted people from among their numbers to collect tolls at the gate. And while Cyril village may be larger than Buena, with twice the number of households in fact, the living arrangement was also more compact, with a majority of the houses congregating close to each other. This was due to the village's relative proximity to the Boreas Highway and thus the village had therefore grown to benefit from travelers by serving them with drinks, recreation and accommodation. This meant that the village had effectively grown into an inn town rather than just a simple agricultural village which was all too common.

That said, it was still a village. Therefore, everyone knew everyone else. Certainly, for trusted members of the village who were appointed to look after an important revenue-generating business such as a toll gate, it was only reasonable to assume that every villager knew of them. So, there was absolutely no excuse for a fellow villager not to know who Gil and Jason were.

" _Gilbert is the old man who had been collecting tolls at this gate, for decades I was told. Jason is his young apprentice. I doubt there's any villager of Cyril that doesn't know the pair. And while I don't frequently travel through this road, I'm confident I know enough of the old man to know that he isn't stupid. He may be old, but I don't think that Gil would be senile enough to call on a stranger to take over his job. Likely, he would have at least insisted that his apprentice, Jason, remain here as well. Yet, neither of them are here...And this..._ " Paul recounted everything he knew of the friendly pair of toll collectors, confident in his conclusion that something was definitely amiss. Though, he wished that everything was just his imagination, he was having a terrible sense of foreboding.

"You there! Halt!" Paul ordered the toll collector as he drew his sword. Paul's men were also alerted by this unannounced act.

"Sir Paul!" Rawls called out, wanting to hear an explanation for the sudden belligerent stance.

The toll collector Paul called had stopped in his tracks. He was staying completely stiff, however, not even turning his head around.

"Rawls, I'm sure you've a keener sense of smell than mine. Tell me, what do you smell?" Paul shouted, wanting some confirmation from Rawls.

Rawls began sniffing for a bit before answering, as his body tensed up. "Now that you mention it...damn it...this stench, it's definitely blood! Likely human,"

That statement caused quite a stir among the crew, especially the wagon coachmen, who had already began scurrying to hide inside their wagons the moment they heard the word "blood".

"No way, that can't be right," Anthony interjected, thinking that it must be a misunderstanding. He began walking towards the toll collector in order to have a word with him. "Hey there, buddy! Could it be that you were preparing some chicken, or maybe mutton for din–"

Before even reaching halfway to the toll collector, however, Anthony was stopped in his tracks as missiles whizzed past his head and right shoulder. He reflexively raised the heater shield he was carrying with his left hand, though not before one punctured his left abdomen and another pierced his right knee.

"Ambush!" Paul shouted. "Get behind the wagons now!" he commanded. The toll collector was already running desperately for the administration building just as the missiles started flying. Paul charged after him, swinging his sword as the momentum of Kalajav's charge cleanly carried the blade through the man's neck. As blood gushed forth from the man's severed jugular veins, Paul rushed towards Anthony who was now lying down helplessly. He dodged a few missiles coming his way, while parrying another. As he arrived beside Anthony, Paul quickly jumped down from Kalajav, then slapped the horse's rear hind to spur it to keep running.

"Quite the unlucky one, aren't you?" Paul joked, just as he was lifting Anthony with his left hand.

"Haha, ouch, I'm sorry, Sir. This shouldn't have happened," Anthony answered apologetically.

"Shut up. Never mind that. You'll be fine," Paul assured.

Paul rushed to escape the scene along with Anthony, whom he was carrying under his left arm. They retreated to where the rest of the crew were, hiding from the missiles on the other side of one of the wagons.

"Rawls, how is it, can you see where they're coming from?" Paul asked, just as he delicately laid the wounded Anthony, who had been gritting his teeth, down on his back. The rest of the men had started barricading the space between bottom of the wagon's bed and the base of the wheels with sacks of grain and beans in order to block the oncoming missiles.

"4 of them are shooting from the building, another 4, maybe 6 from the woods. They might have melee units as well, but I'm not seeing them yet," Rawls answered.

"Yeah? They'll have to start making an appearance soon since they can't kill us from over there," Paul commented.

"I have to say, these men don't seem to be using bows," Rawls noted as he was taking peeks at the occasional shots coming from across the other side of the wagon train.

"Yeah, these are crossbow bolts," Paul answered, as he knelt while looking at the missiles that had struck Anthony. "I have to say Anthony, you did good to raise that shield on time," Paul commented while patting the wounded man's head, "Otherwise..." he continued, while pulling out a bolt that was stuck to Anthony's heater shield, "this...would've gone straight through your heart," Paul proclaimed, while holding the large missile for Anthony and the rest of his men to see. Anthony however, was too weak to respond aside from flashing a halfhearted smile.

"Crossbow, huh? I think I vaguely remember something like that," Rawls commented.

"I've never heard of this...crossbow," Bernard chimed in. Even though he was the second oldest man among Paul's serfs, and had gone on quite a few excursions to eliminate Magic Creatures, he had never heard of such a weapon, much less seen it.

"Neither have I," Siegmund added.

"Me neither," The rest of the crew also gave similar comments.

"Well, I'm not surprised," Paul answered. "It's a Dwarven weapon. The Dwarves are the only ones to use these weapons in any quantity. The Holy Millis Kingdom also furnished a few of their units with them, to my knowledge. But most of their crossbow units are Dwarven mercenaries anyway," Paul explained. He threw the crossbow bolt that he was holding, stabbing into the ground in front of him. "In any case, they're nearly impossible to find in the Central Continent, much less Asura," Paul concluded.

"So, what you're saying is...these aren't ordinary bandits," Rawls asked, to which Paul nodded his confirmation.

"Well, even if we know that, it doesn't change the fact that we're in trouble," Edmund carefreely opined on the matter. The youngest member of the crew was more concerned with Anthony Bach who was starting writhe in pain while sweating profusely. "Rather than that, shouldn't we be removing these bolts?" he asked, while reaching out his hands to pull out the crossbow bolts stuck on the wounded man's abdomen and knee, only to receive a firm smack on his head from Paul.

"Don't be stupid! You'll just end up bleeding him to death," Paul explained. He quickly unfastened his cape and cut 2 long pieces of it with his sword. Paul then handed them to Laurence, whom he deemed to be the most capable of his men when it comes to first aid tasks. "Laurence, patch up his wound," Paul ordered, referring to the wounded Anthony. "Just bandage around the bolts. The important thing is to minimize his blood loss. Once we get to Cyril, we'll find him proper treatment," he explained.

Laurence, however, was reluctant to use the makeshift bandage. "But Sir, this is your cape. I don't think it's fitting for you to sacrifice such an expensive item for us serfs. I heard that for nobles, heraldic capes are really important artifacts and heirlooms. Even Anthony himself wouldn't feel good about it once he came to," Laurence objected.

"Ah, yeah...uhm...Well, look it's my fault," Paul answered. "I've actually prepared proper bandages in a bag...but Kalajav was carrying it. And I spurred him on while rescuing Anthony. Now I don't know where Kalajav is," Paul explained. "Anyway, just use that," he ordered.

"Ooraaah!" "Ooraah!" "Oraaah!"

From across the other side of the caravan, deafening shouts could be heard. Both Paul and Rawls peeked to look at the source and found that the enemy were gathering out in the open, seemingly having given up on taking pot shots from their hiding spots. They were standing on the clearing between the administration building and the caravan, seemingly beckoning Paul and his men to fight them there.

There was a distance of some 25 to 30 meters between them.

Paul noticed that a few of the men were wearing sections of plate armor in addition to mail. Some were wearing steel lamellar armor over gambeson. But most were equipped with mail hauberks over gambeson. Only a few of them, mostly the crossbowmen, were wearing simple gambeson. They were equipped with a variety of steel helmets. Many were wearing fearsome-looking helmets that tapered into a conical shape towards the top, while having an attached veil of mail that covered the face and neck, leaving only the eyes visible.

Rudeus would have recognized these as armor resembling those of medieval Russia, common to the elite warriors of the Kievan Rus. Paul recognized them as armor common to the great warriors of the frigid Northern Lands. Aside from the crossbowmen, they were mostly armed with battle axes. The majority with one-handed battle axes and round shields, many with two-handed ones. Others were carrying a combination of maces and shields with a few equipped with sabers and shields. There were easily two dozen of them, perhaps three, including those who were still trickling out of the woods around the toll administration building.

"Oi, oi, oi, just what on earth is going on?! Forget bandits, aren't these guys some seriously well-armed mercenaries?!" Paul exclaimed.

Rawls too was displaying a combination of surprise and worry on his face. None of them signed up for this kind of trouble.

That said, this has now become a serious matter of life and death. They couldn't afford to go easy if they wanted to come home alive. While Paul wasn't clear of just how strong these warriors were relative to himself, he was certain that with the exception of Rawls, his men wouldn't even stand a chance in a short bout with them. It was clear that any clash would be thoroughly one-sided.

Rawls too, with his simple tunic wear and absolute lack of armor, would only do well from a distance where his skills as an archer could shine.

"Laurence!" Paul called. "Look after Anthony. If it's starting to look bad for us, move Anthony into the first wagon. Throw out everything inside the wagon, get the coachman to help you. If I fall, you better spur that horse as fast as you can and get to Roa! Warn the Count of what happened! Understand?"

"Ye-yes, Sir!" Laurence responded with an affirmative. It was starting to dawn on the rest of the crew the gravity of their situation. However, it was their leader, the knight Paul, who understood this more than anyone else. Having traversed across many countries and continents as an adventurer, and getting into numerous life and death combat along the way, Paul can instinctively discern the disposition of forces at a glance. He can judge whether the outcome of a clash would be favorable to his side or not. Paul was a survivor, and his senses were warning him that this fight would be dangerous. Even assuming that none of his enemies could match him individually, their numerical superiority would definitely show.

"Rawls, you'll lead the rest of the team. Keep your distance and provide me with support," Paul ordered, to which Rawls nodded an affirmative. "The rest of you, form shield wall and protect Rawls. Do not engage these guys in melee!" he barked. "I'll do everything I can to keep them off you. But should any of them get past me, maintain defensive posture while engaging. Shout for my attention while at it. Remember, surviving this is far more important than killing them! Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" the men loudly affirmed.

"Right...NOW!" as Paul shouted his signal, he rushed towards the clearing in a furious charge. His first target was a mail-armored burly warrior who wielded a two-handed battleaxe. As Paul approached, the man swung down his axe with frenetic strength. But Paul sped up his charge at the last moment while pointing the tip of his sword forward and over his shoulder. He arrived long before the axe could land a blow. Paul thrust his sword through the man's mail hauberk, letting the momentum of his charge carry the blade through. It exited the other side of his abdomen. But Paul didn't stop there. He dragged the blade upwards just as quickly, slicing through the man's ribs, lungs and shoulder blade, while severing his left arm entirely as his sword exited over the man's shoulder. The warrior collapsed as his innards fell out in a shower of blood and bile.

However, before the man's body had even touched the ground, another warrior was already closing in within inches of Paul. The warrior swung down his flanged mace, aiming to crush Paul's skull into a bloody mess. Paul parried the strike towards his right just in time, then sidestepped to his left. Using his left foot as a pivot, he swung his sword down diagonally, bisecting the lamellar-armored man across from his unshielded right shoulder through to his left abdomen. The splattering of gore and organs bathed the grassy ground, turning it from green into shades of red.

But, there was no moment of respite for Paul. Another warrior was already swinging his two-handed battleaxe just as Paul was bisecting his second victim. Paul dodged the blade by mere millimeters as he jumped back just in time. Unfortunately, there were already two warriors waiting there. They clearly anticipated his movement. One was swinging a one-handed battle axe to his left, another was swinging a mace to his right. Paul had but a moment to make his decision. He could swing to engage either but not both. More importantly, the warrior to his front had followed Paul by jumping after him. It was a near-simultaneous, 3 on 1 assault. At this rate, he faced the prospect of leaving at least one blind spot behind him, while another attack came from his side that he won't be able to defend against.

" _What to do?! Left?! Right?!_ " Paul considered. But he had to make a decision, fast. "Right!"

As Paul shouted the word, he used his right heel to stop the momentum of his jump, then almost instantaneously using it to propel himself into a spinning high jump, over the shoulder of the warrior who came from diagonally behind him. It was a highly risky move. Short jumps were one thing. They were useful in closing distances quickly. But high jumps kept a person above ground for a second too long, allowing skilled enemies time both to anticipate one's landing point and to respond accordingly. There was no way to change trajectory once you've made a high jump, either. For Paul though, this was a necessary gamble. He had to avoid getting butchered from three sides. If there was no escape on a level plane, then it was only sensible to go up or down, was Paul's reasoning.

As Paul was jumping over the shoulder of the enemy on his right, he swung his sword and cleaved cleanly through the man's right shoulder, severing his arm. The mace that hand was swinging had already reached where Paul's right shoulder would've been had he been even quarter-of-a-second late. As the blood was spraying from that stump of a shoulder, however, Paul immediately faced another danger.

The relentless warrior who had pursued him from his front was changing the direction of his axe's swing. The two-handed battleaxe the man was wielding was bound to cut horizontally across Paul's midsection before he could even make his landing. Paul had no way to parry the swing without a footing to provide sufficient counterforce. The best he could do would be to block it, but that would still leave the destination of his landing up to his attacker. Depending on the momentum and direction of that swing, he could end up right in the middle of the main mass of enemies.

" _Damnit!_ " Paul cursed his mistake.

As the large axe was about to reach him. Paul prepped his sword to block the strike. However, it never came.

Just as Paul was readying to receive the hit, an arrow flew past him, heading towards his pursuer. It punctured through the relentless warrior's left eyeball and exited through the back of his skull, instantly killing him. Paul didn't have time to dwell on that, however.

As soon as his foot touched ground, he sped toward's the last able warrior of the three, swinging his blade vertically downwards. Although the warrior had put up his shield on time to deflect the strike, the strength, direction and momentum of Paul's swing had rendered it useless. He cut through the man, shield, arm, armor and all. The warrior was bisected into two from his left shoulder blade vertically downwards. His organs spilled forth as a puddle of red formed on the ground below him.

Paul then swiftly turned around to finish off the armless warrior. He thrust the point of his sword hoping to impale and kill the man. However, the warrior successfully parried the oncoming sword strike towards his left with his shield. Paul responded by using the momentum of the parry to swing his sword in a circular arc, utilizing his right foot as a pivot. The sword swung back towards the armless warrior's exposed right, and with nary a sound, his head was severed.

Rawls and Paul's men looked on in amazement at the sight before them. The bandits Paul was facing were strong, very strong. So strong, in fact, that among Paul's crew, only Rawls was able to keep up with their movements. Even then, he found it difficult to intervene and provide the support Paul requested.

The rest of the bandits too, seemed to have stopped their attack for the moment, their eyes clearly displayed their shock. Among them, whispers could be heard going back and forth. The intense melee had not lasted even half-a-minute and already, five of their numbers had fallen. Their blood and innards painted the once verdant field into lakes of crimson. Their severed intestines adding blotches of other colors, while the thick and pungent smell of iron wafted through the air, its domineering presence bearing down on all the living.

It was clear now that this place had become a stage. A stage for the warriors who have gathered there to dance. Dance their dances of death. And neither side could leave this stage unscathed.

After a long moment of deafening silence, a tall and imposing man steps forth from among the bunch. Paul believed that he might be the leader judging by his armor set and the two sabers on his hip.

"State your name, warrior!" the man ordered. His voice was gruff and raspy. Paul presumed that he might be a middle-aged man, judging from his voice alone. The man also had an accent common to the north, beyond the Red Dragon Mountain Range.

"Is that your definition of courtesy between warriors? You first!" Paul shot back, as he rested the blade of his sword on his shoulder.

"Hmph, I'd very much like to do that but unfortunately, our contractor forbade us from making such exchanges," the man acknowledged, his eyes seemingly conveying his regret. Paul couldn't tell for sure, however, as the man was wearing a silver mask that obscured everything but the man's eyes.

"So, that's it, huh? You guys are mercenaries, not bandits. Didn't your employer tell you to conceal the fact that you're hired help?" Paul asked.

"He never specifically said not to reveal the fact that we're mercenaries, so I believe it's fine," the merc explained.

"Hah! Quite the flexible one, aren't you?" Paul joked. "Name's Paul, Paul Greyrat. Lesser Knight serving the Count of Roa," he shouted. He was beginning to hope that he might be able to find some common ground with these mercenaries. Their presumed leader, at least, seemed like a flexible guy. If these men were mercenaries, surely they would care not to take on jobs that would cost them great loss for little gain. Skilled and experienced warriors were especially hard to come by, and its unlikely that these men would want to die for some petty job.

"Paul Greyrat...I see," the man contemplated. "I have to say, I found it surprising that a Lesser Knight could outmatch us to that extent. Here I thought that the warriors of Asura have long gone soft from your many years of peace. Yet, your swordsmanship showed otherwise," the man commented. "Based on what I can see, the speed of your strikes, the way you smoothly received each of our attacks and connected it into peerless counters, the way you danced across the battlefield as though it was your own personal stage...I'm guessing you must be at the advanced rank, both of the Sword-God style and the Water-God style. Perhaps even for the North-God style," the man concluded. "Am I right?" he asked.

"Well, your assessment isn't wrong," Paul answered. "That aside, you must be quite strong yourself, old man. To be able to discern all that on just a few bouts," he continued.

"Hahahaha!" the man roared a thunderous laughter. "I see, there are actually warriors like that in this world! Seems like this wasn't a wasted trip, after all!" the man proclaimed, seemingly shrugging off Paul's compliments for him.

"Very well, Paul Greyrat. Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier," the man continued. "I am Yaroslav, Yaroslav of the Twin Blades! I lead the Raging Bears of the Northern Lands," he declared. "My company are few in numbers but we are all veterans of numerous campaigns. Many of my men are Intermediate-ranked in the North-God style, a few are Advanced-ranked in the style. I, myself, am an Advanced ranked practitioner of the North-God style," he ended. As the man was announcing so many details of himself, Paul was getting flustered.

"Oi, oi, stop just for a moment right there," Paul interjected. "Whatever happened to not being able to say your name and all that?" Paul asked, confused by the mixed messages he was receiving.

"Hahahaha! That doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Huh?"

"After all, at the end of the day, only one side will live through this," Yaroslav stated matter-of-factly. The already cool temperature suddenly dropped a few degrees further. Paul and his men could feel the hair on their backs standing on ends. There was just something chilling with the way the veteran mercenary leader said it.

"Wa–wait, wait just a moment there. Can't we discuss terms? We should discuss terms. Look, I'd pay double of what your client's offering," Paul was desperately trying to salvage the peaceful resolution he was hoping for. He might be able to keep up with these men, but he knew that his own men couldn't. If what Yaroslav said was true, there was no way his crew could survive a melee with these mercenaries for longer than a few exchanges.

"Hahaha! I appreciate the offer, lad, but you can't afford it. And neither could your Count," Yaroslav answered. "Our boss this time is paying far above and beyond even our high rates. Now, I won't say I'm not worried for my men, or for their kin who may lose their loved one. But the money we've received were more than enough to set our families up for life. Now that's not something you'd get everyday in the north. Even if all of us were to die here, it'll still be worth it," the man explained, adding, "More importantly, the Raging Bears never reneged on a contract,"

"..."

"Well, no worries, lads, we'll give all of you proper burials. It's the least we could do to show our respect," the mercenary leader assured, only to heighten the tension.

"Damnit!" Paul spat, as he rushed to stand directly between the mercenaries and his men.

"Raging Bears, steel yourselves!" Yaroslav shouted.

"Men, formation!" Paul yelled.

"CHAAARRRGE!"

As Yaroslav gave the order, 5 men rushed at the same time towards Paul. A few were waiting behind them, ready to support. Paul knew he could only count on the fact that the radius of their swings would limit the number of men that could attack him at any one time. He stepped backwards to avoid the opening strikes, then rushed to his right towards the axe-wielding warrior at the left end of the 5-man formation. As Paul was about to swing his sword, however, a slash came from his left side.

Unable to avoid the imminent hit, Paul switched the sword to his left hand, parrying the strike. He swiftly thrust his sword towards his assailant, only to be parried by another. Then, two swings came towards him from opposite sides, forcing Paul to step back from the attack with only millimeters to spare. As Paul was kept busy by the relentless back and forth, 2 mercenaries quickly slipped past him. They were heading straight for his crew.

One merc was stopped in his tracks as an arrow pierced his throat and another simultaneously went through his chest. He had actually succeeded in deflecting an arrow heading for him using his two-handed battleaxe, only to find two other missiles lodging themselves one after the other almost instantaneously.

The other merc, however, managed to reach Paul's men in that time. The warrior ferociously swung his mace down towards the youngest man in the formation, Edmund, who could only stare blankly, petrified. Having anticipated this, Bernard rushed forward from right beside Edmund, pushing the young man aside with his right hand and blocking the oncoming attack with his shield on the other.

But it was futile.

The shield shattered and splintered as it came into contact with the furious blow. Before Bernard could even register what had happened, his assailant had swung a brutal kick from his right, sending him tumbling several meters away. He couldn't register anything after that, only that he was spilling the content of his stomach, probably more, much more.

He felt sick. He couldn't feel his hands. He was finding it painful to even get up, his strength fast leaving him. Dizzied and breathless, he was slowly making out the faint sounds of the battle. Turning his head around, he could see only blurred images of the unceasing clashes. But he could see it, and it was hell.

His friends had scattered, battered and beaten. He could see splotches of red, but Bernard didn't know whether that was just his eyes or something else. He didn't want to know.

He wished he was back home in Buena. He wished he was sitting beside his family, watching over his young wife and newborn son. He wished they could all be together, quietly enjoying the rewards and blessings of the harvest. He wished that this was all just a nightmare, these faint, perpetual screams that were hollering across the battlefield unceasingly, and the constant sight of bloodied and mangled men.

It seemed as though the flickering flames of life were sooner being snuffed out, one by one, by one.

As dusk turned to darkness, the curtain was at last drawn on the final act of this unnamed battle.

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 **Author's Note: Howdy readers! I'm really, really sorry for the late release. I had wanted to make it to a release a few days ago but couldn't. As you can see, this chapter ended up being very, very long. So long, in fact, that I've actually split it into two! I'm still working on finishing the second part, that is, the next chapter. Hopefully, it won't end up being too long that I'll have to split it again, lol. This chapter had been a rather difficult writing experience for me given that this was the first time I've ever written action sequences, anywhere. So I ask for your patience and understanding.**

 **Anyway, just a quick note that yes, the Boxer breed of workhorses is actually a shout out to Animal Farm, which has a special place in my heart. After all, it was the first ever** **English-language fiction that I've read. Before that, I mostly dwell in non-fiction books on astronomy and history.**

 **As for this chapter, I tried to slowly insert segments of religion and culture into the story as part of the world-building exercise. A world that lacks celebrations and festivals surrounding important annual events would feel dead, or at least dry, I believe. While I'd say that Mushoku Tensei canon had really interesting characters (the main selling point for me), the world itself always felt a little lacking. Like it could use a few more exposition just around the corner. Or perhaps some slice-of-life chapters where characters actually partake in the customs and celebrations of the world, actually being active members of the civilization they were in. You know, something that regular people do and enjoy. Japanese anime set in Japan, after all, tend to feature an episode or two dealing with Obon or Summer festivals where the girls get to wear Yukata, people go to the temple to pray, partake in drawing their fortunes for the coming year and of course, to enjoy all the delicious looking foods. Then, depending on the genre, maybe rendezvous in a secluded part of the temple far away from prying eyes. Of course, there's also Bunkasai where all the kids had to come up with something to contribute to contemporary culture. The point is, fantasy stories too, deserve such vivid paintings. Of course, whether or not I can deliver something like that, I wouldn't know, since this is my first fic. That's why, do leave your comments and if you find that I'm writing poorly in any way, or there's a way I could have written better, do criticize. I appreciate all the second opinions I can get. More than anything. I'd like to improve and grow as a writer.**

 **Anyway, as someone had mentioned, an index or list of original characters and their description is a good idea. In fact, I was thinking of releasing the list not just for OCs, but for the original characters as well. This should be expected as small and subtle changes may occur to some characters due to the effect of a radically different MC. I'll likely release the list only after the end of this first arc. Now that I think about it, I should perhaps change the chapter titles to include the arc name and/or number. But again, this is best done with the benefit of hindsight, so I suppose I'll just think about the arc classifications next time.**

 **Once again, I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing my humble fic. See you next time!**

 **P.S. Also, I've changed the rating to M seeing as I've now included action sequences resulting in deaths. Just to be sure I'm not running afoul any of the guidelines, ya know. Well, I'm sure it'll become necessary sooner or later, anyway. Shouldn't I have put up this announcement first, you'd ask? I'd like to know that myself as I just remembered to do it less than a minute before writing this postscript. Lel.**


	5. Chapter 5: Requiem of the Damned

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to its respective owners**

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 ** **Chapter 5: Requiem of the Damned****

A horse was galloping fast along the cobblestone-paved road, pulling a large, 4-wheeled wagon along with it. The wheels continued to turn and rotate over and over again as it's occupants looked on apprehensively at the ones coming up from behind them.

"Can't this go any faster?!" Laurence shouted and asked, desperation clear in his voice.

"It's going as fast as it can! Anymore and I'll kill the poor beast!" Robert, the wagon coachman, shouted back. "The wagon's too heavy to move any faster!"

"Right! I'm on it!" Laurence shouted back as he proceeded to drop more sacks of grains and legumes out of wagon, one by one.

The other occupant of the wagon, a man named Anthony, was lying flat on the wagon bed, mumbling delirious as he slipped in and out of consciousness while blood continued to slowly drip out of his wounds.

"Goddamnit, I can't believe those guys are still catching up. Just how fast are they?!" Laurence asked to no one in particular, exasperated. He had been dropping more and more sacks, yet despite the increase in the wagon's speed, their pursuers were slowly but surely, still closing in.

"Eh?! They're closing in?! Are we going to be boarded?!" the coachman asked.

"Just focus on driving, let me worry about that!" Laurence shot back. As he watched the pursuing mercenaries inching closer, the man then asked, "Robert, can you go a little faster, for just a spurt?"

"Yeah, if it's for a second or two," the coachman confirmed. "But, I'll have to level for a lower speed first,"

"Right, you do that," Laurence nodded. "On my signal, go for speed!" he ordered to which the coachman gave his affirmative.

As the horse slowed down a little in order to maintain a more comfortable level, the pursuing mercenaries bolted even faster, resulting in them finally closing in right behind the wagon.

Laurence gripped his falchion tightly.

As the closest mercenary jumped into the air, intent on entering the wagon, the man shouted his signal, "Now!"

That was the merc's intent. It was not realized.

The sudden burst of speed had caused the mercenary to miscalculate. His shin dropped on top of the tailgate, as he only partially entered the wagon. He felt something broke. Before the merc could even scream from the cracking of his tibia though, a blade had already come for him.

"..U..gh.." blood dripped from the mercenary's throat as he was stabbed through his vocal cord. His assailant pulled back the falchion, before running its sharp edge across the mercenary's neck, then kicking him off the wagon.

Before Laurence could even rejoice or breath a sigh of relief from succeeding in his first kill, however, he realized that the other mercenary had already entered the wagon. As soon as he looked at the invader, he received a vicious knee strike to his chest, causing him to stagger and drop onto the wagon bed, lying on his back.

" _Cough...cough.._ "

The mercenary slowly approached as Laurence was coughing intensely from the strike, desperately gasping for air. His falchion had left his hand at some point in time.

The mercenary looked down on his humbled opponent as he straddled the man. Then he slowly raised his stiletto above his head, ready to bring it down and end Laurence once and for all.

" _...Am I..going to die here?_ " Laurence wondered.

The mercenary swiftly brought down his stiletto, it punctured through flesh and blood dripped from it. Soon after, the small skirmish in the moving wagon came to an abrupt end.

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( _a few minutes before_ )

 _Neigh!_

As the fight was turning badly for Paul's men, the first wagon in the caravan bolted away at galloping speed, leaving behind several sacks of grains and beans. In the midst of the confusion of battle, Laurence had quietly moved Anthony into the first wagon and cut away at the rope holding down the toll barrier. Judging that he couldn't possibly do anything against the mercenaries anyhow, Laurence figured that running to Cyril Village was his best bet for survival.

The unexpected nature of the wagon's departure surprised not only Paul and crew, but also the mercenaries.

"Goban, Yuric! Go after that wagon! Kill anyone aboard," the mercenary leader, Yaroslav ordered.

Two men rushed from among the mass of mercenaries, running at high speed after the departing wagon.

"No, you won't!" a flash streaked past as a blade descended at blinding speed on one of them. It didn't find its target, however, as it was blocked by a pair of daggers wielded by another mercenary.

"Where are you going, Sir Knight? Your fight's with us," the mercenary, a scrawny and rather short warrior, commented.

Surprised that someone could block his [Soundless Longsword], the knight, Paul, realized that the warrior who blocked his strike was different from the ones he had been fighting so far.

"Hoo~, you must be one of the Advanced-ranked warriors your boss mentioned," Paul concluded, as he pushed his sword ever closer towards the scrawny mercenary.

"Et-to-to-to-to, is that really how you should be complimenting someone?" the scrawny mercenary joked as he was struggling to hold back Paul's longsword, which was locked against his daggers, from inching ever closer to cleaving him. "Rather than thinking about that, Sir Knight, you should be thinking...about...your surroundings," he added, flashing a smirk.

In that instant, Paul heard a footstep from behind him. Looking with the side of his eyes, he realized that a large axe was heading from his right, intending to bisect him horizontally across.

He stepped back from the scrawny mercenary, lowering his stance to avoid the horizontal cut. Turning around as the axe passed overhead, Paul slammed his pommel straight into the axe-wielder's solar plexus. As the tall man hurled the content of his stomach, he was forcefully pulled by the knight towards the scrawny mercenary in front of him.

The scrawny mercenary stepped aside, evading the tall mercenary that had been flung towards him. As he did, the merc threw one of his daggers at Paul. As the knight parried the blade, the scrawny merc dashed forward, closing the distance between them. Paul readied his stance to cleave his pursuer, but the man unexpectedly threw a small ball, which burst into countless particles. It was a mixture of smoke and sand.

With the smoke and sand obscuring his target's vision, the mercenary rushed in and thrust his dagger.

"Gotcha!" the merc exclaimed.

"Eh?" only to realize a moment later that he had been cut.

"H-how..?" the merc asked as he fell and drew his last.

"Tch! I knew you North-God style practitioners would use a dirty trick sooner or later," Paul commented. "Too bad I'm quite well-versed in them too,"

As he stared at the mercenaries still standing around him, eager for a fight, the knight wished safe journey for his men who had just left on the carriage. " _I just hope those two could get away to Cyril in one piece,_ "

Then, he rushed once more to meet his adversaries.

As the constant clanks of steel continued between Paul and the mercenaries, elsewhere on the clearing, things were looking less rosy. In fact, the situation was quite dicey as a single mace-armed mercenary had effectively obliterated the 4-man shield-wall formed by Paul's men. Only the constant harassment and assaults by the half-elf archer, Rawls, was keeping the situation from deteriorating into outright slaughter. Though not by much.

Tried as he might, Rawls simply could not kill the assailant. Every time he loosed an arrow intending to kill the mercenary, the man would raise his shield just in time to block it.

The mace-armed mercenary couldn't land a blow on Rawls either as the archer's greater agility and insistence on keeping a wide berth between the two had created a stalemate.

However, one side was clearly running out of time. Rawls realized that the arrows in his quiver were diminishing by the seconds. Meanwhile, the mace-armed mercenary had only to endure until the archer had no more shots to give, then he could finally end this farce.

Only once had he crushed these flies could he go after the raging tiger that was still cutting down his battle-brothers, was what the mercenary thought, however...

"Won't you just give up, elf?!" the mercenary shouted as he swung his mace down on Rawls, who gracefully avoided it. And then he swung again, again and again. From the left and the right, up, down, horizontal, vertical, diagonal. But the half-elf archer snaked through the strikes, evading it each and every time. Sometimes by miles, other times by mere inches. The half-elf loosed an arrow as he spun around, and again, the mercenary blocked the oncoming missile with his shield.

" _Tch! Only three left?! I'm going to be in trouble at this rate,_ " Rawls realized just how little time he had left to settle things. He looked around him, towards the faces of his comrades. But, there was little hope to be found in them.

Bernard was lying meters away, a mouthful of blood and bile forming a pool close to him. His left arm shattered along with his shield. The man was barely breathing after taking two direct hits from the mace-armed mercenary.

The rest of the men fared much better, but that was small comfort given the looming threat hanging over their heads. Siegmund, Klaus and Edmund had scattered around the perimeter of the fight between Rawls and the mace-armed mercenary.

Klaus and Siegmund were still recovering from the concussion of being knocked aside. Edmund was cowering, his hands covering his ears, his eyes desperately shut. It was clear that the young man was petrified by fear.

Yet none of them were truly free of such fears, at whatever degree they may experience them. They were peasants, not professional warriors. They were happy enough tilling the land, having enough to eat and a roof over their heads. That was their battlefield, not the field where men's limbs and guts were scattered about, and the odorous smell of blood hung maliciously, beckoning the passing of ever more resentful souls.

" _No choice, I'll just have to keep dodging until this guy makes a_ mistake," Rawls resigned. "Damn _it, if only I can be rid of his shield,_ " he added.

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While the Rawls continued his stalemate with the mace-armed mercenary, nearby, a young man was busy trying to scratch away reality.

"It's just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream...it's just a bad dream!" the young man repeated over and over again.

The 15-year-old was cracking under the pressure.

He had thought that this job would be a simple joy ride. Another chance for him to travel to a big city like Roa.

He had long dreamed of being able to live in a big city like that, becoming a burgher and a freeman, not stuck in the monotonous cycle of the farming year that serfs were condemned to. Perhaps, he could become a merchant, or even an adventurer that he had heard so much about and greatly admired. Yet, everything that was going on around him at the moment was just wrong. It's nothing like he thought it would be. There has to be a mistake somewhere!

"...nd...und...Ed...mund..."

"Eh?" the young man looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"...Ed...nd..."

"Aah! Old man!" finally, having found that the voice belonged to a certain middle-aged neighbor of his, Edmund rushed towards the wounded man.

"What happened to you, Bernard-ji-san?" the young man asked, as tears started to flow from his eyes. " _Sob..._ Your hand..." he added, as the droplets trailed down his face.

" _Cough..cough..._ weren't...you...weren't you...look-ing...you dumb kid?" the middle-aged man asked, half-jokingly. "I...just saved.. _cough_..your sorry ass,"

" _Sob.._ Mm...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... _sob_...everything's just, going wrong," the 15-year-old responded.

"Ha! Tell me...tell me what isn't? No...more importantly...if nothing changes soon...we're all dead," Bernard stated, holding a chuckle at the absurdity of their situation. Yet, unlike the adolescent, he had already made peace with the reality of it all.

"Tell..you what...kid. I didn't go out of my way...to save your ass...for free," the middle-aged man said, as he slowly forced himself to get up.

" _Sob..._ What are you saying, Bernard-ji-san?" asked the young man. "More importantly, you should lie down," he added, concerned by the terrible injuries on his senior.

As he tried to reach for Bernard however, the young man's hands were swatted aside.

"Tch! I don't...need some...whippersnapper's...concern," Bernard groaned, as he finally got to sitting down in a seiza. The pain in his right chest warning him of his deteriorating condition. "That aside...you now..owe me big...you damn brat," the middle-aged man said, his breath audibly wheezing from his injuries. "So, you'll have to...pay me...big time,"

".. _Sob_..Pay you?...but...I don't have any money," the young man responded.

"Heh! Then...then you'll just have to...work your ass off for it," Bernard quipped as he struggled and finally stood up.

"Watch...you damn brat...I'll be...saving your ass again," the middle-aged man announced to his junior. "When...when you get back, tell...tell my wife...tell my Elsa...what I did," he added.

"Wha-what are you saying, Bernard-ji-san?!" the 15-year-old questioned, alarmed at the sudden request and its implications.

"Shut up, damn brat!" the middle-aged man shouted, as he pulled on the young man's collar, bringing his face closer towards his. "Listen...you may still smell of milk...but if you're a man, then you know that we have to do what we have to do!" the middle-aged man shouted, before slowly letting go of the youth.

"Take care of Elsa and my boy, Edmund..." Bernard solemnly requested. Edmund cannot find it in him to stop the man after seeing the serious look in his eyes. Eyes that were looking straight into his.

"Make sure...they aren't kicked from the farm when I'm gone...That'll be...your payment to me," as the middle-aged man looked away, he readied himself.

"AAAARRRRGGHHHHH!" with a kick, Bernard sprinted and charged headlong into the warrior that earlier had battered him so.

Having closed the distance, Bernard grabbed onto the mercenary with his functioning arm, his eyes filled with fatalistic determination. The mercenary responded to the sudden attack by swiftly kneeing his assailant in the chest. The man coughed out red, yet refused to let go of his waist.

"Unhand me, you worm!" the mace-armed mercenary hollered as he readied his weapon to pommel the man into paste.

"?!" the mercenary stopped momentarily however, as he realized the bizarre look his assailant was giving him. The man was wounded all over, and his left arm had clearly been rendered useless. Yet, there he was, flashing a wide smile with clear open eyes, even as blood ran down his mouth. "Got-cha," and then it all went dark.

.

=][=

.

" _Phew..._ There goes my third last arrow...Ah, more importantly,"

Rawls rushed towards his latest kill, or rather, towards the man who was hanging by his prey's waist.

"Bernard!" Rawls shouted, surveying his condition. As he'd thought, the man was at death's door. Unless they get him proper treatment soon, he won't survive much longer. As he was checking out the middle-aged man's condition, the other 3 men of their team, Edmund, Siegmund and Klaus ran towards them. They then carried the wounded Bernard towards a hiding spot behind a caravan wagon.

"Bernard, we have to get you out of here," the half-elf stated, as he moved to carry the middle-aged man into one of the wagons. The man however, gestured his refusal. "...Leave...live..." the middle-aged man said.

Even without hearing all that he wanted to say, Rawls understood what Bernard meant. He also knew that they had to act fast.

"Paul!" Rawls shouted from behind the rows of wagons.

The knight was still kept busy, clashing against too many adversaries to be concerned about his surroundings. Even if he wanted to aid his men, he simply couldn't.

"What is it?!" Paul responded in the lapse amidst his bouts.

"We can't stay here! We have to go!" Rawls exclaimed.

Paul understood what Rawls meant, even those that were left unsaid. Their situation was bad, very bad. They needed a change of pace and a change of place if they were to have any hope of survival, but...

"But what about...the caravan? The coachmen? We're...supposed to protect them!" Paul reasoned.

"Paul! Either we all die here tonight, or some of us survive. You can't have both!" Rawls responded.

If they elect to remain, only death awaited them and they would have failed in their duty as well.

"Tch! Ughh...Damn it, alright!" the knight finally decided. "Rawls, you remember the place we went to last time? The one you said...will make a nice bandit hideout?"

"Yeah!"

"Get everyone you can there! Wait it out. I'll come for you!" Paul instructed.

"As if we'd let you do that!" two mercenaries shouted as they ran towards the half-elf and his group. However, they quickly realized that they've left behind their feet, or rather their lower bodies had been bisected from their upper. It was so quick, they weren't even able to see it.

"None of you are going anywhere! Your fight's with me fellas! I'll keep you all company," the knight announced.

.

=][=

.

"Right! Edmund, light two torches. Siegmund, Klaus, get the coachmen to come with us. We're making a run for it as soon as possible," Rawls instructed his charges.

"What about Bernard-ji-san? We can't just leave him here!" Edmund desperately begged.

Rawls pulled the young man by his collar, facing him eye to eye. "Then, will you die here with him?" Rawls asked, as he glared into the young man's eyes.

Edmund could only respond in tears before sluggishly getting up to prepare the torches.

"I'm sorry about this, Bernard," Rawls stated, while his charges were carrying out their orders. The middle-aged man, Bernard, merely shook his head.

Then he shakily raised his hand. Rawls caught it. He could feel the life that was ebbing away from his senior. Here, his comrade-in-arms was about to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. Bernard firmed his grip, then let go. He said nothing, but Rawls understood what he meant. In the half-elf's palm was a few grains of wheat.

" _I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm going to die here. You knew that too, don't you, Bernard?_ " Rawls thought. " _There's no way I can leave my wife and young daughter behind to fend for themselves,_ "

He knew that unlike serfs such as Bernard, whose family may still remain to work the land and earn a stable income from it, free contractors like him have no such insurance. The loss of the sole breadwinner to a family like his, with neither familial ties in the land nor the protection of a lord to turn to, would be devastating. He knew what became of families like his when the sole breadwinner passes. In the travels with his mother during his youth, he had met many such women. Women, like his wife, whose husbands had passed for whatever reason.

In almost all cases, in order to feed themselves and their children, there was but one trade open to them, the flesh trade.

" _There's no way I'd let that end up happening to Sheila!_ " the half-elf made a determined resolution, clenching his fist. " _And I don't want Sylphy growing up into such an environment either!_ "

He furiously shook away the thoughts of such possibilities out of his head, slapping his cheeks a few times.

" _Sigh..._ Right,"

"Rawls, we've called the coachmen, only three out the five were willing to come along with us," one of the men, Klaus, summarized as he and Siegmund brought along three of the coachmen with them. "The other two said they'd negotiate with the mercenaries," he added, scratching his head. "Seriously, they must be crazy if they think these guys can be bargained with,"

"Well, no matter. Leave them be. At least no one can say we didn't try to do our jobs," Rawls responded. "Give me one of the torches, Edmund," the half-elf then said to the young man. "Now, listen. We'll keep to two light sources. I'll lead the way, so just follow the light and you'll be fine. It's time we make haste, let's go,"

As the crew departed, they gave one last look and said their goodbyes to their comrade-in-arms. "Goodbye, friend..."

And with that, they made a run for it, leaving the bloody field of carnage behind them.

.

=][=

.

* * *

.

=][=

.

"Run!" Rawls shouted, his desperation clear. "Come on! We've got to move fast!"

The group sprinted as fast as they could.

"Klaus, hold this torch!" Rawls then ordered.

A young man who looked to be in his early 20s took the torch as they were running.

The half-elf then abruptly turned around, and loosed an arrow from his bow.

It found its mark, right between the eyes of one of his pursuers. But there were more.

"Come on, Rawls! We have to keep moving!" exclaimed another young man in his mid-20s just as he passed by the half-elf.

"I know, Sieg!" Rawls shouted, as he took off once more.

They were running, running through the forest, paying heed neither to the trees nor to the rough and sometimes rocky terrain. They were simply running, running desperately, running for dear life, while the twin full moons shone above.

 _Schhwaff!_

A crossbow bolt flew through the mass of trees, it hit dead center. A man was felled.

"Einar!" a young man shouted, looking wide-eyed at the man that had been felled.

"Keep moving, Edmund!" Rawls warned.

"Bu-but..but it's Einar. It's Einar, Rawls-san!" the young man shouted, even as his legs finally moved again. Rawls understood what the young man, Edmund, wanted to say. He had seen the young man and the coachman, Einar, eagerly talking to each other during the lunch they had in the afternoon. They were similar in age too, apparently. And Einar had been especially generous in sharing his jars of pickled fruits with the rest of them.

And now, the young merchant was dead.

"Tch!" Rawls could only click his tongue in annoyance. But they had no choice save to keep running. They can't stop for anyone.

" _Huff...huff..._ Isn't..this bad? We've already managed to...lose a coachman when these mercs made their appearance...and cleaved the poor guy in half. To...lose another now..." Klaus summarized their fragile situation.

"Damn it...I shouldn't... _huff.._ have come..with you guys. Should've...stayed in my wagon..Maybe... _huff.._ just negotiate..with these guys," said the last of the coachmen that had come along with them, regretting his decision. "Now...I'm the only one..left...Argh!"

"Are you... _huff..._ a dumbass?! You are...aren't you? You think.. _huff.._ these guys are in the...mood to talk?" one of Paul's men, Siegmund, responded. "... _huff..'_ Sides, how's..anyone supposed to...know...they've set up..an ambush here?!" the man added.

However, just as he was done commenting, something appeared on his left. A violent rustling of the leaves before Siegmund saw the glinting object fast approaching.

"Eh?"

He had been stabbed cleanly through, the saber's blade exiting his back. The mercenary stood there before him, staring silently, fearsome and imposing.

"Sieg!" "Sieg-san!" "!"

"R..Ru-n.." the man responded to the cries. He tightly clenched the mercenary's hand, preventing him from pulling out his saber. "RUUNNN!"

At that, his comrades fled the scene. He could hear them, the shouts, the sounds of regret, the cries of desperation. It was all fading, becoming so, so far away. They were leaving him. But that was alright, that was alright.

"It's..fine.." Siegmund mumbled, his grip finally loosening. The mercenary pulled back his sword as the man fell to his knees. He looked up to see his tormentor and his tormentor looked down to see him.

The mercenary saw that there was no hatred in his victim's eyes. There was only...a tinge of sorrow.

" _Ann...Rita...I'm sor-_ "

The blade fell, and the man was no more.

.

=][=

.

" _Huff..._ Rawls-san...is this...close...to the place you said?" Edmund asked.

He noticed that they've finally hit water. They've cleared through the forest and were now on a flat clearing, looking at a waterfall coming down from the cliff of a plateau in front of them. It was mostly rocks and soil laid before them, and a river formed by the waterfall runs through the clearing.

"...Ah..we're close.." Rawls responded. "Come... _huff..._ there's a bit more to go," he added.

"...At last, huh?" Klaus chimed in.

" _Huff...huff...huff..._ a..fin...finally," the coachman, a young man by the name of Timothy, commented.

He was exhausted, having ran almost non-stop for nearly half-an-hour. His body was desperately begging for rest.

"What are you doing? We have to keep moving," the half-elf said. He saw that the young coachman had stopped by the shallow river, happily washing himself in the ambrosia.

" _Huff..._ Give me... _huff..._ a moment. I can hardly...feel anything. 'Sides...haven't heard...any footsteps...for a while now," the young coachman assured.

"Whatever, let's go," Rawls coldly interjected.

"Ahh, wa-wait for me!" the young coachman shouted, as he got up to follow the three who were already going ahead of him.

Just then, he felt a thud. It came from behind him.

""Timothy!"" Edmund and Klaus shouted.

The young coachman saw the look of shock and horror displayed on the three faces in front of him.

" _Is this really...that unexpected?_ " the young man wondered. He has had a constant feeling of foreboding throughout the day, long before they even sat out on their journey in the Village of Buena. " _Seems like...we're jinxed, after all..._ "

 _Schhwaff!_

Another one came through. The young coachman had been hit by crossbow bolts, both successfully penetrating his torso. The young man fell, lying on his sides.

"Goddammit!" Rawls shouted, as he got into position and loosed an arrow at one of the pursuing mercenaries. It hit one of the two crossbowmen coming after them, penetrating straight through his eyeball and exiting the back of his skull. The crossbowman fell and the half-elf readied another one. But then he realized something was wrong, he had none left to give.

" _Tch!...that was my last one, huh?_ " Rawls thought. "I'm out," he said, before sprinting again once more.

Led by Rawls, the three ran towards the waterfall for a bit, but then slumped on the ground, the shallow river's water all around them.

They've come to realize that their situation was hopeless. There were 5 mercenaries, there were 3 of them. Their best combatant, Rawls, had ran out of arrows to give. Without them, he was about as useful as any of the other two in a fight. Perhaps more agile and longer lasting, but just as unlikely to come out victorious. They did the math and realized their only outcome.

"This is it, huh?" Rawls commented.

He was sitting, sprawled on the ground, caring not that part of his lower body was submerged in the shallow river. The half-elf had found something oddly liberating about realizing the futility of it all.

"Seems like this is it," said Klaus, responding to the half-elf's rhetorical question as he was kneeling beside him. "Just sucks that I can't bed Rose one more time, I'd give anything for that," the man added, voicing his one regret.

"Ah, I remember. Your fiancee, was it?" Rawls asked.

"Yeah, I was...actually planning to marry her two weeks from now. Once this whole harvest business is done," the man said, while scratching the tip of his nose. "Looks like that's not possible now," he added. Then...

""Fu...Hahahaha!"" the two men, Rawls and Klaus giggled heartily. Meanwhile, Edmund, the only one who wasn't laughing, looked on the two as though they've gone mad.

He wasn't completely wrong.

"Wh-what are you two laughing for?! You realize what's happening right?!" the young man asked, his temper flaring.

"Ah..Of course, we do. Of course, we do, Edmund," Klaus responded, while closing his eyes. "You realize too, don't you?"

"Uhm...I know...I know," the young man responded. "Damn it, if we're going to die anyway, why did we have to run all this way? Why did we have to leave behind Bernard-ji-san and Sir Paul, and everyone?!" the young man added, voicing bitter regret at their choices.

If they were going to die anyway, they should have at least died together, was what the young man thought.

"Ahh..uhm, I'm sorry about that," Rawls apologized, scratching the back of his head while giving his best goofy smile. He could only admit that he was indeed the one responsible for dragging them into the mess they were in.

"Ah..tha-that's not what I meant, Rawls-san," the young man said frantically. "You didn't do anything wrong,"

The young man then felt a firm hand on his shoulder. It was Klaus. Knelt behind the other two, he was holding onto both of their shoulders.

"That's right, Edmund, Rawls. Nobody was at fault for this. We all did our best," Klaus said, comforting them. "Just that the Gods had other plans for us," he added, smiling.

"Well, they sure abandoned us," Rawls cheerfully said.

"Ha! They sure did," Klaus chimed in.

Their fatalistic joy stood bizarrely in contrast to their grave situation, as the mercenaries in front of them were walking ever closer toward them.

"That said..." Klaus added, "I don't intend to go down without a fight," he proclaimed, as he got up and brandished his battleaxe. Like the others who took off running with them, he had abandoned his shield which was a little too inconvenient to carry running. But he never gave up his weapon. If nothing else, he wanted to at least be able to hack one of the mercs who had been hounding them. "I'm not dying without bringing one of them with me," the man resolved.

"Well, I didn't say I won't fight, either," Rawls said as he slowly got up, unsheathing his dagger.

" _Sigh..._ I suppose I'll join you two," Edmund joined in, as he got up, holding his falchion apprehensively.

As the three readied to meet their doom, something rustled in the leaves behind the mercenaries. Something, or someone was coming out of the forest, fast.

""" _Could it be...more enemies?_ """ the three thought. """ _Or...could it be...?_ """ they wondered, half-hoping against hope.

The mercenaries too were suddenly standing still, some of them slowly turning around to look at the source of the rustling. And then it came...

.

=][=

.

* * *

.

=][=

.

( _Twenty minutes earlier_ )

 _Clank!_

 _Clank! Clank!_

At the clearing near the toll gate, the clash between the knight and the mercenaries continued. Every minute, more mangled bodies piled on the grassy clearing, more guts and blood were scattered around, turning the bright green of the land ever redder and darker.

"A..ah...De..dem-on," a mercenary breathed his last as he was diagonally bisected in two. His block had failed utterly as the knight cut through his shield, saber, armor and all.

" _Huff...huff...huff..._ " the knight however, wasn't faring all that well either. He was running increasingly short of breath, with cuts all over his body. They were mostly shallow, but that didn't stop him from being bled all over. The worst was a horizontal cut across his forehead that would have killed him had he not pulled out in time. Needless to say, he returned the favor in kind, fatally. Still, his sight was now clouded by red from the blood flowing through that wound as well as the smaller cuts above his eyes. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see.

" _Huff...just...a little more.._ " the knight reaffirmed, his grip tightening on the handle of his longsword.

"Hoo...I can't say I'm not impressed by what I see. To think that you were this strong," the mercenary leader, Yaroslav, voiced his amazement. "I can proudly say that you are by far, the strongest warrior any of us has ever met, Paul. You should be proud of that," he commended.

"Tch! Save your compliments," the knight spat. "Shouldn't you be more worried that I'm running out of your guys to kill?" the knight asked. "Pretty soon, it'll just be you and me, Yaroslav!"

"Speak for yourself, knight!" the mercenary leader shot back. "You shouldn't be thinking that you can even hope to get out of this somehow unscathed,"

"Huh?! What do you mean?" Paul asked.

"What I meant is that your men are dead, knight!" Yaroslav declared.

"!"

"Sure, that wagon escaping was a bit unexpected, but I sent my two best runners after it. What chances do you think they'll have of escaping? And as for the bunch that escaped through the forest, do you really think I wouldn't have placed a net of my men surrounding this place when I made the call to attack?" the mercenary leader blankly asked. It was meant as a rhetorical question, and Paul understood that.

"Damn it!" Paul shouted, promptly turning around to run after his crew. He stopped for a bit to look at one of his men, Bernard, who lay dead on the ground. "I'm sorry, Bernard," he whispered softly before bolting off in the direction of the waterfall.

"Boss, shouldn't we go after him?" a saber-armed mercenary asked of his leader.

"Ahh," Yaroslav responded an affirmative. "Widimir, Valamir, go after the knight. But let him run and bleed a little more before you strike,"

Upon receiving their orders, the saber-armed mercenary and another mace-armed mercenary took off after Paul, pursuing the knight with deadly determination.

"Roderick, signal the rest of the men to gather here, we don't need them guarding the net anymore," Yaroslav ordered. "Now, as we wait...Artyom, Igor, check the wagons and bring me any man you find," he added, to which the men responded their affirmative.

"Still, to think that that knight became even more savage after his men had fled. He had cut us down to just 8 here," Yaroslav said

"You think he was holding back before, Boss?" one of mercenaries asked.

"No, not exactly. He was probably paying significant attention into keeping us from attacking his men en masse," the mercenary leader answered. "He didn't have to do that anymore once they've fled, and thus could go all out,"

Two men, the coachmen who stayed behind, were eventually brought before the mercenary leader. They were clearly shaking in fear before the overwhelming presence of the mercenaries surrounding them, not to mention that the scene of carnage, this carnival of the dead and dying they were witness to were so far beyond their experience, that they had no idea how to even react. They didn't know what to do, or even what to think save to shake in fear.

"What do we do with them, Boss?" Igor asked, as he slung a two-handed battleaxe over his shoulder.

"Hmm..." the mercenary leader considered. At the same time, the older of the two coachmen, Olaf, suddenly grew lucid enough despite his fears and interjected the mercenary leader's thoughts.

"Good sir! I beg you, I'll give you my horse, my wagon, even the coins I have in my pocket! Please just let me go home, sir!" the coachman begged feverishly. The small-time peddler never expected that this job he had gotten from the guild, one that was supposed to be a very straightforward job, could end up spelling his downfall.

"I-I beg you too, sir! I-I can't gi-give you the horse and the wagon as they aren't mine..b-but you can have...you can have my coin pouch, anything...anything I own sir. Please, please just let me go sir!" the younger coachman, a blonde named Charles, begged desperately as well. The 16-year old didn't want to die here, he absolutely cannot die here.

But that small wish of his was cruelly dashed.

"Kill them," Yaroslav coldly ordered.

It chilled his intended victims to their very bones.

"Please sir, mercy! I beg you! Mercy, sir! I have a wife and daughter! Please!"

"Mercy kind sir! Please, mercy! I have a younger sister, sir, please. She's sickly! She won't survive without me! I beg you sir, mercy!"

The two men frantically begged as tears ran down their faces. More than just dying, they couldn't bear the thought of what would happen to their loved ones.

"I'll do anything sir!" "I beg you!" "Mercy!" "Mercy, sir!" "Please don't kill me!" "I don't want to die!" "For the Goddess' sake, mercy, please!"

They repeat their cries for mercy, for some reconsideration of their sentence. But these passed by the mercenaries like the wind.

The mercenary leader brought down his hand in judgement.

And the two mercenaries who stood behind the condemned men brought down their axes.

"Hmph! What do I care what you have?" Yaroslav muttered to the silent clearing. Only the night wind offered any response.

Minutes after, the mercenaries that had been encircling the perimeter of the toll gate finally arrived, having heard the horn signal being blown.

"They're all here, Boss," Roderick said to his leader.

"Good, let's go,"

As they finally got moving however, the mercenary leader was suddenly stopped in his tracks. A hand had grabbed to his shin.

"Hoo...Here I thought you were already dead," Yaroslav said. "But I won't stop, even if it's the wish of dying man," he added, as he unsheathed one of his sabers.

Then, he swung, and the hand finally let go.

.

=][=

.

* * *

.

=][=

.

At the clearing below the waterfall, fate seemed to have smiled on Rawls, Klaus and Edmund. The trio had thought all hope was lost, when aid finally came.

A friendly face had arrived from the forest to save the day, charging headlong into the mass of mercenaries who had been hounding the trio.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

" _Sigh..._ Seems like the Gods haven't given up on us yet, huh?" they all thought.

Though, their savior wasn't what they had expected at all.

 _Neigh!_

Kalajav, Paul's prized horse, rammed straight into the first of the mercenaries. The mercenary had put up his shield, but it was clear that such an attempt was a mistake. The momentum and weight of the horse's charge sent the man tumbling meters away as they came into contact. As the mercenary lay on the ground, barely able to comprehend the creaking sounds of his broken bones, the horse had closed on him. It dropped its forehooves on the mercenary, ending him rightly.

By now realizing what had just happened, the other mercenaries began their assault against Kalajav.

A battleaxe-armed mercenary was the first to attack, charging from Kalajav's rear, hoping to catch the beast unguarded. As he closed in and raised his axe however, he was hit by vicious hammer blows that shattered his ribs and lungs. Kalajav had delivered a fast kick with its powerful hind legs, killing the mercenary almost instantly.

Just then, the remaining crossbowman shot a bolt, which punctured through a major vein in the horse's neck. A saber swing came at almost the same time, slashing at the side of it's barrel. Kalajav managed to avoid a fatal cut in time, but it was still deep enough to cause it to bleed profusely. The three remaining mercenaries had quickly learned from their comrades' deaths, and now sought to avoid the horse's front and rear while keeping up the pressure on its sides where it will find difficult to react to. It was becoming clear that it was only a matter of time before the noble steed would meet its maker.

"Come, we have no time!" Rawls suddenly warned, as he ran closer towards the base of the waterfall.

"Aren't we going to help Kalajav, Rawls-san?" Edmund asked. The half-elf gave the young man a funny look and shot, "Are you kidding? We'd accomplish nothing. Those guys are way out our league," he added.

"Right, we'd just be wasting the chance he's given us," Klaus conceded. "So where are we going?" he then asked, wondering why the half-elf was heading towards the base of the waterfall.

"A cavern," Rawls answered. "The base of this waterfall is deep. If you swim down and continue forward, you'll surface at the other end inside a cavern within this plateau," the half-elf explained.

"Eh? But won't these mercs still come after us once they've dispatched Sir Paul's horse?" Klaus inquired.

"Maybe," Rawls answered. "But they'll have to lose their armor and most of their equipment if they were to do that. If nothing else, that should make things a bit more even," the half-elf explained.

"In the first place, I think it'll be more reasonable for them to just wait outside for us to starve in the caverns, as they don't have to take the risk of fighting in unknown and unfavorable terrain. In that case, Sir Paul can take care of the rest in time," Rawls added, trying to reassure his comrades. "Now, you guys have to take off your gambesons too. Those will absorb too much water," Rawls ordered to which the other two gave their affirmative.

"By the way, I know its a bit too late to ask, but you two can swim, right?" the half-elf suddenly asked, just as the other two were ready to take a dip.

Thankfully, both responded with an "of course" or "somewhat", which was enough for Rawls.

"Right, take a deep breath and let's go!"

Carrying only their weapons, the three jumped into the water and swam away.

.

=][=

.

 _Burble burble_

"Fuwah!" Rawls finally came out of a pool within the plateau after swimming for more than five minutes. He fished the other two out as soon as they got close to the surface.

"Fuwah! _Cough..cough..huff..huff.._ Th-that was...that wasn't as easy as I thought it'd be," Klaus noted. Edmund meanwhile, was only able to cough and gasp for air without saying anything.

The three of them has had to swim for a long time, at times surfacing to small pockets of air for a mouthful of breath before continuing the long swim. Although they live close to a major river, and one which every boy would have played in as a child, they've never had to swim so desperately or under such stressful circumstances.

After finally catching their breath, the two who had never been to the place began to notice something.

"I-is it just me...or is this place actually pretty bright?" Edmund asked.

"Tell me about it," Klaus quipped.

"Its those crystals isn't it?" Endmun inquired, pointing to the large shards of crystals sticking out of the ground around them, lining close to the walls of the caverns. "They're giving off such pretty blue light,"

"Those are magic crystals, apparently," Rawls answered.

"Eh?! magic crystals? You mean those magic crystals? But don't they come from magic beasts and magic creatures or some such?" Klaus asked excitedly, suddenly becoming agitated at such a novel finding.

"That's why I said apparently," Rawls answered, shrugging. "I don't hunt magic beasts or magic creatures, so I wouldn't know, but Paul...Sir Paul, said that these crystals definitely resembled the ones he had gotten from magic creatures," the half-elf clarified. "Anyway, we'd better keep moving, there's a warmer place deeper inside,"

"Good, I was just thinking how much I dislike the cold water," Klaus said. "Ohh..is there a fireplace in there?" Edmund asked.

"No, but there's something much more interesting than that," Rawls answered.

As the three cheerful voices grew ever more distant, into echoes and whispers, in the pool that form the entrance to the cavern, a hand appeared. It latched onto the stony floor, then pulled its owner out into the open.

.

=][=

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( _Earlier_ )

"Die, knight!" screamed a mace-armed mercenary as he stood before Paul, readying his stance to bash the knight into pulp.

Paul sped into a sprint, closing into the mace-armed mercenary. "Out of my way!" the knight howled, dragging his sword horizontally across the mercenary's torso, cleaving him in half as he ran. The knight kept running without giving so much as a glance at his victim. He has bigger fish to fry, more important things he was concerned with.

" _Bernard, Martin, Einar, damn it! Please, let me make it in time to save the rest!_ " Paul solemnly prayed as he continued to rush for the waterfall.

Something stopped him midway, however.

It wasn't a mercenary or a group of them.

It was Siegmund. It was what became of one his men.

Paul stared at the lifeless body before him, his eyes motionless, emotionless. He never expected that the worst would come to pass, but it has come to pass. It was happening, right before his very eyes. The signs were always there. Slowly but surely, he was losing those he was responsible for, one by one by one.

Paul dragged himself towards the cold body of his subordinate. Picking it up, he lay it by a tree. He took the man's decapitated head and delicately placed it on the lap of his headless body.

"I'm sorry I didn't come in time, Sieg," Paul said softly. "I promise, I'll come back for you and bring you home,"

"No, you won't," a voice behind him whispered suddenly, and a blade was swung.

Blood was spilled. It was a fatal wound. He knew that.

"H-how?!" he asked, as he coughed red. A longsword had penetrated his upper torso. From his side and through both of his lungs.

The knight slowly turned his head and looked coldly at his assassin-to-be, his eyes filled with intense hatred.

"Do not disrupt me, you cur!" he said in a very low voice, as he pulled back his longsword from the mercenary's torso. The mercenary dropped, lying in the pool of his own blood, his saber hanging lifelessly from his hand.

The knight then got up and ran once more, in the direction of the waterfall.

Once he made it into the clearing near the waterfall, he noticed the scene of carnage that lay before him.

"Timothy..." Paul said, as he passed by the body of a young man, one of the coachmen in his caravan. He laid dead with two crossbow bolts striking through vital organs in his torso. It must have been a rather quick death, Paul thought.

 _neigh~_

The whimpering cry of a horse. Paul looked in the direction of the waterfall, then his feet quickly rushed towards it.

"Kalajav!" the knight shouted as he rushed and slid down, stopping right next to his beloved horse.

"Kalajav...yosh...yosh, boy. Easy..." Paul said as he rubbed the horse's neck and face.

 _neigh~_

"That's right, boy...Go in peace now..."

 _neigh~_

"Run along now, boy..Run to the fields of Persemus...May you be accepted in His Great Hunt, free and eternal,"

 _neigh..._

His pulse weakening, Kalajav soon breathed his last. Paul hugged him one last time, the knight realized that it was too late to save Kalajav the moment he saw his wounds. The horse had crossbow bolts and cuts all over his body, the wounds on his barrel were large enough that his intestines had fallen off. It was a gruesome and undeserved end for such a noble steed.

"Goodbye, Kalajav. It was an honor to have ride with you!" Paul said, his eyes reddened, as he slammed his right fist to his chest in a salute.

Kalajav's gruesome and untimely end was heartbreaking for the knight. To others, Kalajav may just be a simple horse, not even of a famous breed of warhorses, but to Paul, Kalajav was a true friend, for he was Paul's oldest companion, his cherished and loyal steed that had carried him through thick and thin since his youthful days of adventure. It was Kalajav who carried the knight from his old home in Milbotts, away from the suffocating life he had so despised. It was he who carried him in all those years when he wandered the world, searching for meaning and purpose.

Having bid his friend goodbye, the knight then walked towards the base of the waterfall. He began to take off his armor piece by piece, but then quickened his pace when he came to realize something.

Having discarded everything but his pants and sword, Paul jumped into water and swam towards his destination.

" _I just hope I'm not too late,_ " he thought.

Not long after the knight had taken the jump, from beyond the treeline, the rustling of leaves could be heard. Then footsteps, as the remaining mercenaries of the Raging Bears finally arrived.

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=][=

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* * *

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=][=

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"Rawls-san, are we there yet?" Edmund asked. "I sure could use a bit of warmth right about now,"

"Uhm, just a little bit more," Rawls responded. "Aaand...here we are," he said, as they finally arrived in a rather large and somewhat circular room. The room was brightly lit, illuminated by the large concentrations of magic crystals hanging overhead.

As Rawls said that, he turned around to face his companions. It was at that moment too that he saw that there was someone else, someone who should not be there.

"Klaus!" the half-elf screamed as he rushed towards his companion, kicking the man aside just as a blade passed a swipe from the other side.

It drew blood. It was shallow, but the saber had cut into the half-elf's chest. Though thankfully, its intended victim had been saved from being bisected by that saber.

"Et-te-te-teh, I was just about to say how warm it feels in here, but I suppose I should instead be saying thanks instead," Klaus said as he got up. "Thanks, Rawls! You saved my ass again," the man said cheerfully as he then brandished his battleaxe and readied his stance.

"Save your compliments for now," the half-elf responded, holding a bitter smile as held the bleeding wound on his chest with one hand and readied a dagger with the other.

"What are you saying, Rawls? If a man doesn't confess his feelings right away, he may never get to say it," Klaus shot back.

"What do I need your confession for anyway? I already have a ship and I don't intend to ever board one with you," the half-elf said.

"Eh?" Klaus asked, confused.

"Never mind that,"

"You done talking?" the mercenary asked, his sudden chilling reminder putting a break on their small banter.

"Ah" "Yeah" the two solemnly responded.

At the time, another man suddenly entered the stage, brandishing his dagger.

" _Probably that_ crossbowman," Klaus concluded. " _Did all 3 of them come along after us?_ " he wondered. " _But there's only two here,_ "

Klaus saw that the half-elf had likely thought the same.

"Rawls, what do we do?" he asked.

"Do you think you can take on the second merc on your own?" Rawls asked, referring to the dagger-armed mercenary, to which Klaus nodded his affirmative, while adding an "I'll try".

"Then do so, I'll keep the first one busy in the meantime," Rawls said. "As for Edmund, hmm...Edmund!" the half-elf called.

"..."

"Edmund!"

"..Uh..wh-what?"

"Don't 'what' me. Pay attention!" Rawls scolded. "Help out Klaus if he's in trouble, afterwards we'll gang up on the..." as the half-elf was trying to give his instructions to the youngest member of their team, however, he realized that the boy was shaking, badly.

"You're still afraid, huh?" the half-elf asked.

"Uhm...I'm sorry Rawls-san," the young man answered, half-sobbing. He was holding his falchion with both hands, but it was skill shaking.

"Edmund...it's fine to be afraid. That's proof that you're alive, that you don't want to die," Rawls said. "But you have to fight. If you want to live, you have to fight. So conquer your fear, Edmund! Conquer your fear and live!" the half-elf said as he looked straight into the young man's eyes. But Edmund could only close his eyes and whimper in response.

" _Sigh..No matter,_ " Rawls thought. He still had a fight to attend to and no time to babysit someone.

The clash soon began with the saber-armed mercenary closing the distance and slashing his saber towards the half-elf horizontally at speed. Rawls went low to avoid the strike. However, the mercenary did not stop, he slashed again from the direction where the last one ended, forcing the half-elf to step back. Then again, again and again. Each time, the half-elf evaded, with almost no distance to spare.

The saber came down vertically. This time, it was impossible to dodge completely. So Rawls used his dagger to deflect the strike a little sideways. With no pause despite the earlier deflection, the mercenary then struck again, this time he drew blood. It was a shallow cut, but a cut nonetheless. Rawls realized that he was in trouble, but he had no time to think of anything else. It was taking his all just to avoid being fatally butchered.

Though, true to his words, Rawls had managed to keep the saber-armed mercenary busy, by dodging. Just dodging. Or rather, that was all he could do. And not perfectly either.

For one, having shed all his armor, the mercenary may be more vulnerable to attack, but he had also become much faster. Rawls, on the other hand, was getting increasingly weaker. He was already fatigued from all the fighting and running they've done, and as he kept dodging and dodging, the wounds on his chest and elsewhere spilled more and more blood.

But the half-elf knew he has to hold. He has to hold and buy time for Klaus to finish off the other mercenary, then hopefully, he'd be able to come and help him.

So counting on that hope, Rawls kept dodging, evading and avoiding the rhythmic and murderous slashes of the mercenary's saber, at times influencing the direction of the blade with his own dagger. Parrying, dodging, deflecting, ducking, evading, running, jumping.

He desperately danced to the rhythm in order to survive. Even if it were only by millimeters, he was still desperately living.

" _Klaus, you'd better be done soon,_ " the half-elf hoped against hope.

 _Swoosh!_

An axe swung down, then sideways. The other mercenary in the room was desperately avoiding the furious strikes delivered by Klaus, backing away meter by meter.

Klaus had fared much better in his mortal combat with the dagger-armed mercenary. Even as his opponent was able to dodge his attacks successively, it was clear that Klaus was the one putting on the pressure. His opponent seemed more experienced but not much more skilled in melee. Klaus also thought that he might not have had that much practice with the dagger, after all.

" _Perhaps because he was a crossbowman?_ " Klaus pondered.

Klaus himself was quite used to wielding an axe. As one of the taller and beefier men in the village, he had often taken on extra jobs lumbering and logging. Also cutting firewood. While logging wasn't a normal career avenue for a serf, his new liege lord, Sir Paul, was a carefree man who often gave him the permission to pursue whatever work he wanted. Sir Paul had even said that he wouldn't mind if Klaus wanted to become a freeman and said that he would even help him get a permit to become a full-time lumberjack if he son wanted.

In short, Klaus was good and well-practiced with axes. Although he'd only used two-handed axes when logging, the fact that he was now wielding a one-handed battleaxe was even more convenient for him. After all, it was much lighter.

"Haaa!"

The battleaxe fell on the dagger-armed mercenary, who had finally been cornered with his back to the wall. This time it was fatal. It hit squarely on the mercenary's head, cleaving it partially in two as blood and brain matter burst forth and then continued to ooze out.

 _tang!_

Klaus reflexively looked towards the other fight in the room. To say that it didn't look good, would be an understatement. Rawls seemed to have suffered a number of shallow cuts all over his body. They weren't fatal but they definitely contributed to the half-elf's increasing sluggishness.

 _tang!_

Another sound of metals clashing. This time, Rawls' dagger had been swatted straight out of his hand. As the mercenary's saber came down on him, Rawls managed to evade it by sidestepping, barely. But he never expected the next move. A fast and merciless push kick to his torso. As the ball of the mercenary's foot rammed into the half-elf's solar plexus, he was sent flying back, tumbling and eventually stopping as his body hit the stone wall.

The half-elf then fell unconscious as blood dripped from his mouth and nose.

 _Swoosh!_

Almost simultaneously, an axe flew across the room and slammed itself into the mercenary's back, dropping him to his knees. Klaus had thrown his axe, realizing that the situation would turn badly if the remaining mercenary wasn't taken down immediately. Unlike Rawls, he wasn't confident in his ability to dodge a professional's sword strikes.

But the axe he had thrown had not found the target he wanted. It was a little too low.

While the battleaxe, lodged on the saber-armed mercenary's lower back, had managed to momentarily disable him, it was not enough to kill him. The mercenary was slowly summoning the effort to get up. Klaus realized he was running out time. So he took the dagger from his kill and ran straight for the last mercenary.

"Arrrgh!" Klaus hurled a blood-curling scream as he ran towards the mercenary, ready to stab him with the full momentum behind his charge.

"Ugh.."

Blood dripped and slid down the blade.

It was the mercenary who had found his target first.

"Eh?" Klaus realized that he had been stabbed. He had been stabbed through his abdomen.

This was a simple competition between weapons of different lengths, a dagger and a saber. The saber reached its target first.

The mercenary pulled back his blade as Klaus dropped to his knees.

As the mercenary got up, he readied his sword to strike down the man who had gravely wounded him. The anger in his eyes clearly revealed that intent.

The mercenary raised his saber, then brought it down at blinding speed.

It cut through his victim's left collarbone, but miraculously, not much more.

Somehow, the slash had been stopped before it could go all the way through.

Klaus had barely managed to stop the blade from continuing down with the dagger he was holding in his right hand.

The mercenary responded by placing his left hand on the back of his blade. And together with the right hand on the sword's handle, he pushed.

"Arghh!" Klaus screamed as the saber fell lower millimeter by millimeter.

Klaus realized that trying to hold back a downward cut pushed with the entire weight of a grown man's body was a losing proposition. Although he has always been confident in his strength, having to do all this with one hand was downright impossible. Slowly, little by little, Klaus could feel that he was being cut apart.

"Arrghh!" Klaus screamed. He frantically looked around. There was only a single ray of hope left to win. " _It's a long shot, but..._ "

"Edmund!" Klaus shouted, gritting hard on his teeth.

"K-Klaus-san..." the young man responded to the call, half-sobbing and shaking.

"Kill! Ed..mund, kill this merc!" Klaus beckoned. The young man however, could only respond by shaking his head, with his tearful eyes closed.

"If..you don't kill..Ed-mund..you'll die," Klaus stated. "Look..at me, lad," the man continued.

Edmund looked in the direction of Klaus, who was still holding on even as the saber was inching deeper and deeper into him.

"Don't you wan't...to go home, Edmund?" Klaus solemnly asked. "Didn't..the old Bernard..asked you..to-to do..something?"

"Klaus-san..." the boy sobbed.

"Do it...lad. A man...has to do...what...he has to do," Klaus said.

"You talk too much for a mere worm," the mercenary interjected as he added more pressure.

"Arrghh!" Klaus screamed as the blade finally cut into his lung.

"Klaus-san!" the young man screamed.

" _Klaus-san...What are you doing, Edmund?!_ " the young man asked himself. " _Are you just going to stand here, as you watch everyone die? Will you just cower and wait for your own death?!_ " he interrogated. " _Don't you have to repay_ Bernard-ji-san?" he asked. "What _will you say Sieg-san if you did_ nothing?" he added. "Will _you just let these bastards kill Klaus-san and Rawls-san as they've killed Martin, Einar and Timothy?_ "

"..o...no.."

"NO!" the young man shouted. " _I'm afraid. Even now, that fear hasn't left me,_ " he thought as he gripped his falchion tightly. " _But-_ "

"A MAN HAS TO DO WHAT HE HAS TO DO!" the young man shouted, as his feet kicked off the the ground.

"UUAAAAAARRGHH!" with a blood-curling battle-cry, the young man man charged with reckless abandon.

Slamming straight into the mercenary's back, his blade punctured and penetrated through.

The mercenary who was still busied with trying to kill Klaus, never expected it. He had long dismissed the young man as a coward who presented no credible threat to him.

And, ironically, it was to his own demise.

The falchion tore through the mercenary's heart, killing him in an instant.

 _Thud!_

"Klaus-san!"

As two bodies fell flat on the smooth rocky ground, Edmund called out to Klaus.

"Klaus-san..."

" _Cough_..y..you.. _cough_..d-did well...lad," even as he was coughing red, Klaus still struggled to give his sincere compliments to the young man, with a smile.

"Klaus-san..."

"Klaus!" another voice suddenly rang. It came from the man who had just entered the room running.

"Klaus!" the knight, Paul, reiterated as he finally got beside the dying man.

There was no saving the man. Paul realized that looking at the wound that ran vertically from the Klaus' left collarbone and into his lung. It had gone too deep. He was bleeding too much from that, never mind the stab wound on his abdomen.

"u..ug-h.." at the same time, another groaning voice was heard from across the room.

"Edmund, quick, get to Rawls!" the knight ordered.

"Y-yes, Sir," the young man answered as he sprinted towards the half-elf who was just starting to wake up.

" _Cough_..S-sir..P..Paul," Klaus suddenly spoke, as he shakily lifted his right hand up, his face whitened to a deathly pale. Paul caught that hand to reassure the man.

"T..tell..tell Ro-se...to...li-ve..h-hap-py.." the man exerted.

"Klaus, you shouldn't say another word," the knight said, but the man simply shook his head slowly before continuing.

"..T-tell.. _cough_..Ma..-nd..Pa, I..I f-fought well.." Klaus continued.

"Ahh, of course I'll tell them. You don't have to worry about that," Paul assured.

"Paul Sir," Edmund suddenly called. He has brought Rawls, whose arm was slung around the young man's neck, with the young man helping out as the half-elf's crutch. Paul looked towards the two.

Rawls could only flash a bitter smile. He had no energy left to say anything anymore. It was painful to even try to say anything.

"S..S-ir..P-aul," Klaus suddenly said. The knight looked back towards his dying subordinate.

"A-re..we..go..go-ing..ho-me..s-soon..?" the man asked.

"Ahh, of course," Paul assured.

Then, his lips slowly curving into something of a smile, the light faded away from the man's eyes.

"Ahh, of course, Klaus. We are going home," Paul said in a soft voice, almost like a whisper. "Dead or alive, we will all come home," the knight affirmed, as he closed his subordinate's eyes for the last time.

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* * *

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=][=

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With much effort, the two remaining able men, Paul and Edmund, were able to drag the dead Klaus and the wounded Rawls as they swam out of the cavern. As they exited from under the base of the waterfall, however, what greeted them was but another life-and-death situation. More than a dozen mercenaries had been waiting for them on the clearing beyond the waterfall, standing awfully still under the illumination of the twin full moons.

 _Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap..._

As Paul stood before the mercenaries, shielding his subordinates, Yaroslav started clapping.

"Well done, knight," the mercenary leader said. "Never in my wildest dreams did I expect things to turn out like this," he professed.

"Though its a waste, since I wish I can recruit someone like you..." the mercenary leader said. "Why don't I have you all die here, now?" he asked, the sudden serious tone adding a chill to the already cold night wind.

"..o...ore. No more...None of you will kill anyone anymore!" Paul announced, his eyes burning with determination.

Paul gripped his longsword tightly and entered his fighting stance. He looked towards the mercenaries, more than a dozen of them, heavily armored and armed. The knight puffed his muscled bare chest, then slowly breathed out. The contrast between the two sides may look silly and any onlookers may think that it was clear which side would come out on top. Paul thought so too.

Indeed, it was clear as day, he assured himself. In the end, he will be the one to come out victorious.

 _Swoosh_

A headless body suddenly dropped on the ground with a thud. It happened so fast that most weren't even able to see it, much less react. Even the mercenary leader, Yaroslav, was surprised by the speed.

"Arrghh..." the cry of pain and surprise came from another side. A mercenary had been fatally stabbed from the back, the blade of the longsword protruding vividly from his chest.

"Tch! What are you louts doing?!" Yaroslav angrily reprimanded. "Get him!" he ordered.

"Aaargh!" "Aargh!" "Aarrgh!" "Aarrghh!" "Aarghh!"

The mercenaries screamed their battle cries as they started their assault to take down the knight, rushing towards him while leveraging on their teamwork and superior numbers to take him on.

To an extent, that has worked earlier in the night. It was supposed to work now. It was supposed to.

But things were turning differently, to their horror.

Four mercenaries came towards Paul from multiple directions. Instead of trying to escape the encirclement, however, Paul rushed towards the one relatively further away than the rest.

The mercenary swung his mace with fury, but Paul merely sidestepped while hacking off the man's arms, then before the man could even scream, Paul had grabbed the mercenary by the collar of his hauberk then swiftly pulled him towards the saber-armed mercenary that was coming up from behind the knight.

As the saber-armed mercenary stopped his friend from battering straight into him, Paul stabbed his longsword through the now armless mercenary, penetrating both the man and the saber-armed mercenary behind him through their abdomens. Then twisting his sword, the knight dragged his blade in a fast horizontal slash that not only partially bisected the two mercenaries, but also decapitated a third that was coming from beside the knight.

A vertical cut from an axe came from behind him, but Paul avoided it, having earlier anticipated the attack. At the same time, he had turned his blade towards the assailant behind him. Without turning around, he stabbed the man through his solar plexus.

Then, pulling his sword, the knight spun his blade and decapitated the hunched mercenary with a straight vertical slash.

Another group of mercenaries made a beeline towards him. Paul rushed towards them, cutting, bisecting and decapitating as he went. Soon, the shallow river where they fought had turned a thick red with blood.

".. _Haaa_.." slowly exhaling, Paul looked on the result of his work. The night had turned eerily quiet, there were but a few souls left on the clearing that still draw breath.

Paul turned to face Yaroslav, a serious look on his face.

"Seems like it's down to just you and me, Old Man," the knight declared.

"Not quite," the old mercenary said, as he unsheathed both of his sabers. "I still see two more of your men I that I need to kill," he added.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Yaroslav," Paul interjected.

"Try me, Paul," Yaroslav goaded.

Under the moonlit night, the two men just slowly circled around each other, neither making the move to close in the distance between them.

At some point, both suddenly stopped. And then, they stood still.

Time lost all meaning, as the two continued to stare down each other, neither moving a muscle.

"..."

"..."

A gust of wind blew gently from the forest, and clusters of leaves drift into the open.

A beautiful green leaf, still perfectly shaped, glided and meandered about above the clearing. Eventually, it came down to settle on the ground between the two opposing swordsmen.

As the leave touched ground, rock and soil was kicked off from opposite ends as the bloodthirsty warriors charged towards each other in a bitter fight to the death.

""AARRGGHHH!""

With furious battle-cries, the two struck into contact. Paul delivered a furious vertical slash which was caught by Yaroslav's twin sabers in a scissor block.

As Paul pushed his sword further in, Yaroslav delivered a push kick towards Paul, who barely avoided it as he promptly stepped back. Just as his feet touched, however, Paul found himself already under attack as Yaroslav delivered two rapid slashes almost simultaneously. The knight parried the first and evaded the other, with almost no distance to spare.

Yaroslav continued to deliver his rapid strikes, both sabers turning into a flurry almost impossible to see by untrained eyes. Vertical, horizontal, cross-diagonal, the strikes came with no breaks in between as Paul was pushed onto the defensive, desperately avoiding and parrying the strikes.

Yaroslav struck a blinding vertical slash. Seeing his chance, Paul blocked the strike while simultaneously sliding his longsword along the length of the saber, intending to bisect the old man horizontally in a violent counterattack. But Yaroslav blocked the incoming strike with his other blade and redirected it away as he stepped back, before continuing to deliver his attacks to the defending knight.

Therein, Paul realized the problem.

The twin sabers allowed Yaroslav the ability to use both blades and both hands to defend.

It also allowed him the use of both blades to attack simultaneously, sometimes from different directions.

Lastly, it allowed the mercenary leader to attack with one hand and defend with the other.

The flexibility and versatility that the fighting style offered to the mercenary leader was unsettling for Paul, who had to defend the flurry of strikes, yet cannot launch a counter that would not itself be blocked or parried. Paul knew he needed to change pace soon, lest those flurry of strikes delivered him to his death with a thousand cuts.

 _Clank!_

As Yaroslav struck once more, Paul parried and connected it with his counterattack. It was caught in a block by Yaroslav who then attempted to deflect it away. But Paul would not let it. Shifting his weight a little, Paul pushed back into the mercenary who now readied a slash with his other blade. Though before that strike could reach him, Paul had struck the mercenary with a kick. Then, promptly turning around from the still alert mercenary leader, the knight fled, his back exposed as he ran.

"Where the hell are you going?!" the mercenary leader howled as he ran after the knight.

Yaroslav quickly closed in, ready to deliver two horizontal slashes across that would bisect the knight by his torso. As the devastating slashes were swung simultaneously, the knight did a front flip, barely avoiding the slashes. As his free hand touched the ground during the flip, Paul grabbed onto a handful of materials. Then quickly turning around, he threw the handful of pebbles and earth towards Yaroslav.

"Don't joke with me, Boy!" Yaroslav shouted as he moved to parry and cut down the insignificant pebbles.

But something else had also been thrown almost simultaneously.

"Eh?!" the mercenary leader realized that he had made a blunder, just as his left arm left him.

Somewhere along the line, he had divided his attention to swatting aside the handful of insignificant pebbles. Without realizing it, he had failed to pay full attention towards the longsword that was swinging towards him, cleaving away at his left arm.

While the longsword continued to spin past the mercenary leader, Paul had already reached him.

The knight grabbed the saber that flew off the mercenary's cut off arm as he ran, then swiftly thrusting it towards the mercenary.

Yaroslav, however, managed to barely parry the thrust with his other saber, despite his bewilderment. But it wasn't good enough.

Paul turned the parry into his own counterattack and cleaved away at Yaroslav's other arm, before swiftly running the blade horizontally across the mercenary's torso.

"..U..Ughh..." Yaroslav dropped to his knees, grunting, his intestines falling off the large cut that ran the width of his abdomen. Yaroslav looked towards the man responsible. He noticed that the knight's eyes was filled not just with anger, but also sorrow and a tinge of regret.

"Are you satisfied now?" the knight inquired in a low voice. "All this death, all this slaughter, for what?" he asked.

"What have we left here, Yaroslav, but weeping widows and orphaned children?!" Paul shouted, the sorrow clear in his voice.

"Even you, don't you have people you're leaving behind? Those who will weep for you?" Paul asked, almost whispering.

".. _Cough.._ I have...I have sired bastards...slept with whores in every...town I went to...I have...no regrets, knight," Yaroslav responded. "...As for...my men, they...have what..they have. But before..that, they..are warriors," he added.

"..." the knight looked on the mercenary in silence.

"..Don't...give that, knight...I don't...need or...want your pity," Yaroslav spoke. "You..ask about...all these...deaths...as if...as if..they're senseless...or meaningless," the mercenary leader said.

"Well, aren't they?" the knight asked, his voiced raised. "What part of this has any meaning?!"

"..Hah..haha... _cough..cough.._ " Yaroslav laughed as he coughed out more blood. "..It's all...ordained by the Gods, knight...Merely the...laws of the world..that the undeserving...perish...and the...deserving...live," Yaroslav said. Then looking at Paul straight in the eye, he continued, "..listen, knight...the strong...the strong...shall do what they...will, the weak...will suffer...what they must...that is the justice...of this world."

"..."

"..Now..finish me..Paul. Give me...give me...a warrior's death," Yaroslav pleaded.

Paul raised the saber above his shoulder.

"Goodbye, Yaroslav," the knight solemnly said.

Yaroslav closed his eyes and the blade was swung.

" _Tanya..Andrei..Amira, will I now...go to see you all again?_ "

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* * *

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=][=

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"Shouldn't we go in now, Master?" a man asked

"No, we've already got what we came for," the 'Master' answered.

Two men, cloaked in black, were standing on a plateau, right above the cliffs. They've been surveying the skirmishes that had unfolded below, watching as the two sides slaughtered away at each other.

"Ehh? We won't?" the subordinate asked. "But we can easily eliminate all of them," the subordinate pointed out, his disappointment clear. As he said that, the rustles of leaves became audible, and six other men, also cloaked in black, made their presence known.

"That is exactly why..." the 'Master' pondered. "This target isn't as powerful as the watch-list described," he concluded, a frown forming visibly on his face.

"Well, then my darlings," the 'Master' said as he turned around to face the others with a renewed smile. "It's time we go back and report to the Boss," he announced.

The leaves and branches rustled once more, and then all was quiet.

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 **Author's Note: Howdy readers! Did you enjoy that? Since someone mentioned that my story lacked drama, I went back and read the previous chapters. True enough, I realized that in my eagerness to do as much world-building as I could as fast as possible, the story ended up becoming too clunky in its delivery. I realized the paragraphs were too long, which might be good for some exposition type-chapters but not really when you want to convey fast actions. So this time, I put in a little more effort for the sake of drama, including removing many content in this chapter and shifting them to later chapters where I feel they'll be more appropriate and overall deliver more drama to the story. But do tell me if it's still not dramatic enough and maybe how I can improve on it.**

 **And yes, I've decided to include some Japanese suffixes, for example "Bernard-ji-san" that was used in this chapter. I actually pondered whether to use "Uncle Bernard", whether it would do in referring to an older, middle-aged, male neighbor (to the young Edmund) but eventually decided against it as I felt that the term "Uncle" generally imply blood relations, whereas "Oji-san" or "X-ji-san" could refer to an unrelated middle-aged man better. Additionally the use of suffixes like "-san" can convey respect to an elder/senior that would be difficult to bring across without it. Of course, since English is my third language and I'm only N4 in Japanese (lower elementary level), I'm not 100% certain on such conventions and might not be as culturally informed as I'd like to think, particularly since I don't experience either culture personally. I'm only getting both cultural influences through media like books, manga, anime, movies or such. So feel free to correct me if I'm wrong here.**

 **The other reason I decided to use Japanese suffixes is because some characters that appeared in Canon are uniquely known for using them, to the point I think they've formed a part of their identity. Aisha's use of "Onii-chan" is a great example, which is why I'll keep those. And it's not because I like "Onii-chan" in particular or find the sound of it music to my ears. Yes, totally not. It's because I don't have a choice, yes, in order to keep with Canon, believe me ;). In any case, I will endeavour not to use Japanese suffixes wherever possible and especially where English terms would sufficiently convey the intent.**

 **Anyway, tell me what you think.** **If you like what you're reading, please consider favoriting and following this story. Tell your friends about it too. I'll try to update regularly, put out at least two releases a month, maybe more if I have more good days. Once again, thank you for reading this humble fic. Adios, and see you next time!**

 **P.S. I have nothing to write for P.S. this time, but since I've been writing them the last 2 chapters, it somehow just felt wrong not to :)**

 **P.P.S. Update! Edited again for grammar, spelling, redundant words, and splitting up overly long paragraphs where proper, etc. No change to story so no worry to readers who have read before this update, I only ever edit to clean up grammar and spelling. From now on, I'll use "P.P.S." to list if its been "cleaned up".**


	6. Chapter 5-5-1: Genesis - The Black Bears

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to it's respective owners**

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 **Chapter 5.5.1: Genesis - The Black Bears**

"Cheers!"

Five wooden mugs were raised in a merry celebration, toasting above a round table within a certain tavern's hall. With nary a pause spared, the mugs' content were then chugged down in one fell swoop.

"Kahaa!" exclaimed a young woman, her cheeks reddened just as she had gulped down the last drop of the intoxicating nectar. "Nothing's more refreshing than a mug of beer after a hard day's work!" she loudly proclaimed, slamming the bottom of her now empty mug onto the table.

She slumped onto her seat as her quiver and bow laid quietly by the side of her chair, while the pair of cat-ears on her head were perking up and down and side to side energetically.

"Well, can't deny that," a young man chimed in as he too took to his seat. His relatively high-pitched voice finely complimented his boyish features.

"That aside, shouldn't we be taking to our meals now? My stomach's been grumbling for a while," said another man with a deep voice.

"Ah, of course! Go ahead and eat up, everyone!" declared another.

At their leader's behest, the group of five adventurers - 3 men and 2 women - took to satiating their hunger. There was only a few small talks being passed around as they were happily devouring their meals, and what passed for conversations were mostly requests for some food item or another to be sent their way. The meal itself was a rare celebration for the crew, a whole table filled with rye bread, borscht, pickled cucumbers and a variety of cheeses and meats, including a whole roasted suckling pig. Despite the enormous amount of food, the group had gobbled up most of them within just several minutes.

"Haaa, that was a great meal. I'd say the best I've had all week," said the young female archer of the team, as she was patting her now bloated stomach.

"Doesn't that go without saying?" the leader of the team asked, with a smirk on his face. "We've been dungeon-crawling the whole week, eating only dried foods or monster meat that barely passed for food. Of course any hot meal in a tavern is much better," he pointed out.

"Ah, I know. Well, that aside, Rou...You should find a healer soon, while we're still in town," the young female archer said as she lazily rested her head on the table.

"Huh? That again? We already have a healer, Maria here," the team's leader, Rou, pointed out to the female archer, while pointing to the other female member of the team.

"Yeah, I meant a magician, a magic healer!" the female archer clarified.

"Ehh? Do we really need one, Maria has been fine so far," Rou voiced his skepticism, waving off the suggestion.

As far as the party leader was concerned, the current lineup had kept them alive for years without trouble, so he didn't see the need to change anything. If it wasn't broken, don't fix it, was his belief. Then, there's the question of availability when it came to finding magicians, especially capable ones.

But the female archer would beg to differ.

"Haaa?! Maria's herbal medicines sucks! I'm sick of it!" the female archer complained, banging her fists on the table. "It's bitter when swallowed. When it's applied on the wounds, it hurts. Also, it takes too long to heal," the female archer listed.

As she read off her list of complaints, the concerned girl - Maria's head - drooped lower and lower. Those who saw her could have almost sworn that she was indeed shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller.

Being the miscellaneous support of the party and a poor fighter at best, Maria has always been beset by low self-esteem. So, to hear her enthusiastic efforts criticized as such, she was dropping further and further down into anxiety.

"Gi-Giselle-chan...haven't my medicines a-actually been useful for you?" the girl asked meekly.

"Eh?" the archer asked, as she turned her head - which was still lying lazily on the table - towards Maria. Then, the female archer's - Giselle's eyes - widened as though in surprise. She had finally caught on to the fact that her words could not have been taken as anything but negative for their anxious party member. Certainly, it was too insensitive towards the sensitive and timid Maria.

"Aaa...look, I'm not saying that your medicines are bad, yeah. Not at all!" Giselle tried to explain, her hands swaying frantically from side to side as though she was trying to wave off what she had just said. "It's just that...look, Maria, you're already taking care of our meals and supplies, yes. Plus, you also plan out our expeditions, you scouted for traps and you're also in charge of setting up traps for our targets, you've already done a whole lot!" Giselle continued with her arms swaying about wildly.

"But...you still think that my medicine is not good enough," Maria interjected, droplets of water hanged visibly on her eyes.

"Ah, that...that...aaah..."

As much as Giselle wanted to assure Maria that it wasn't the case, she couldn't find it in her to lie to that innocent-looking girl. Her eyes scanned wildly around the table, helplessly begging for some kind of assistance.

She saw Rou's eyes for a split-second, but the man looked sideways just as quickly, nervously whistling while taking the occasional sips from his mug.

" _That guy! He saw, didn't he?! He's pretended not to notice! Wait a second! Isn't that mug empty?!_ "

Giselle then turned towards the tall man with the deep voice. For some reason, he seemed to be preoccupied with waving his hands energetically, calling for the waitress. In fact, the man was no longer facing the table at all.

" _What? Has Gunther not noticed my plight? And is he still going to order something? Just how much is that man going to eat?! Wait, isn't he sweating a little too much? Ah- he knows, doesn't he? He knows, but decided to ignore me!_ "

Giselle looked apprehensively towards the last party member she can count on, her last hope for salvation. As their eyes met, the young man gave an understanding nod along with a smile.

" _Ariman!_ "

Giselle looked hopeful.

"Well, whether it's good or bad aside," the boyish-looking young man suddenly spoke, "it's true that herbal medicine, given that they improve our own natural healing abilities, will always take longer than magic,"

" _Ariman! Thank you! I knew you wouldn't abandon me! You're a real nice guy, you know that!_ "

"That said, I have always appreciated your help, Maria. Unlike a certain **someone** , I have always been **grateful** for it. It has saved my life countless times, after all."

Alas, that forlorn hope didn't last long.

" _Ariman! Would it kill you to just stop at your first sentence! I knew it! The only thing nice about you is your face! You're really rotten inside!_ "

"Just so you know, Maria, I've always been **grateful** for your medicine," Rou quickly chimed in.

"Ahem...Given how often I get injured, I believe you know better than anyone how **grateful** I've always been for your treatments," Gunther added.

" _You guys! Aren't we a team?!_ "

Never mind that the help she was looking for failed to materialize, they've been all too happy to drop her under the carriage. Yet, despite her seething desire to get back at them, she realized she was at fault to begin with. There was only one thing left to do.

"...Maria, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that your medicine was bad!" Giselle finally conceded, bowing her head with her ears drooped, dejected.

"Giselle-chan," Maria called. The red-hair looked up to see her fair-haired friend's radiantly smiling face. "It's alright, Giselle-chan. It's just my anxiety, that's all," she stated. "But, seeing everyone saying how much my medicines have helped...really, I'm thankful,"

The girl's eyes seemed to have glistened with tears as she said that. Perhaps, that was all she had ever wanted from them, to know that she had a place in their party. Maria was, after all, their latest member, having joined them only a few months before. Perhaps she had been unsure of where she stood relative to everyone else.

"Maria..."

"But, you aren't wrong either, Giselle-chan," Maria continued. "It's true that anytime one of us took a beating, we've had to rest from adventuring for a few days. So, if we can find a magician who can help us with healing support, I'm sure our party would do much better,"

Giselle looked intently into her friend's eyes. Despite the traces of tears still hanging, there was no hint of uncertainty in those otherwise clear eyes. Would Maria not be resentful of her diminished role? Giselle wondered. After all, she was the one with the most to lose when it came to their positions in the party, assuming they can find that healer.

"Are you sure about this, Maria?" Giselle asked.

"Yes!"

Eyes that spoke of conviction looked back towards her. Convinced, Giselle turned around towards their party leader.

"So there you have it, Rou. So go and find us a magic healer already," she said.

"Ehhh~, do we really have to?" Rou lazily shot back.

Despite the heartfelt talk she had with Maria, the response from their party leader was less enthusiastic than what she had expected, but...

" _Ah...I almost forgot. This guy's always been like this...he's actually really lazy and indulgent. Unless it's for his base needs, you really have to drag him into it. I should know, waking him up in the morning is always a pain. He has a tendency to lose himself in the moment once he gets a little comfortable. Sigh...what to do now?_ "

"Rou," Giselle called, her tone low and stern. The man's shoulders perked up suddenly at what he swore was the low growling of a beast. "Listen here, look at this party," the young female archer pointed out. "There's you with your twin sabers as our Vanguard and primary attacker. Then there's Gunther with his two-handed battleaxe who also serves with you in the Vanguard as secondary attacker. Ariman with his sword and greatshield as our Middle Guard and primary defender. Then there's me as the party's Rear Guard as primary support, together with Maria as secondary support," Giselle stated, listing each of the party members and their roles in it.

"Do you get it?! It should be clear that our party has plenty of attack power and is most suited for aggressive melee. Yet, how exactly have we been fighting again? We've had to carefully skulk around each and every time, taking the long and indirect ways, laying traps and ambushes and only engage in melee for the shortest amount of time possible. Why? Because we can't afford to get even one person hurt without derailing the quest!" she shouted. "Why can't you get that through your thick skull?!"

"Ah, I know, I know," Rou finally conceded. "Gee, you don't have to be so angry about it,"

"I'm not angry," she shot back.

"Right,"

"Still, where are we supposed to find a magician again, much less a healer?" Ariman then asked.

"Indeed," Gunther affirmed. "Magicians are extremely rare. Those capable of healing, even more so,"

"And most magicians are trash anyway, skill-wise," Rou noted.

It was common knowledge that only 1 in 400 people have any potential of becoming a magician. Of those with the potential, even if they were also blessed with the desire and opportunity to learn magic, most never got to anything beyond elementary level. At that level, they would not be much of a threat even to a bunch of starving bandits.

In short, a good magician was an extreme rarity. Even among Adventurers, where magicians could be found in the greatest numbers and concentrations, they were still scarce enough that most low-ranked parties would go without one. It was also not rare for even A-ranked and S-ranked parties to only have access to Elementary or Intermediate-ranked magicians in their team.

Of course, there were magicians who had achieved mastery over magic, people who were classified as at least Advanced Rank in one or more branches of magic. But these people might as well be ghosts given how rare they were. Less than one percent of those who took up magic were able to reach this level. Indeed, these were the elite of the elite. And yet fewer still would ever reach higher than Advanced Rank.

As for those special cases, those 'monsters' who managed to break through and become Saint-ranked Magicians or better, across all of the known world, their numbers were never higher than the digits of one's fingers.

"Look, I know that. But for the Gods' sake, we're already a B-ranked party!" Giselle exclaimed. "It's about time we find a healer with at least Elementary-ranked healing magic!"

As the back and forth discussion continued, a lone young lady approached the party's table, seemingly drawn to the heated debate like a moth to flame.

"A...E-excuse me!" the young lady nervously called, prompting all 5 of the party members to abruptly drop their conversation and turned their eyes toward her. Seeing the five pairs of eyes directed at her, the young lady became even more nervous and uncertain.

"Hmm, is there something you need, miss?" Ariman asked with a smile, his smooth blonde hair somehow swaying from side to side despite the fact that they were all seated indoors.

"A-ah...Uhm..." the young lady was hesitant when she was asked by such a cute guy. She fidgeted about, trying to hide her embarrassed face behind the wide brim of her conical witch hat.

Another man in the party was watching her especially keenly, his eyes following each of her moves and viewing each of her features very closely. Though, this was not because he was suspicious of her, but because he was captivated by her beautiful, no, her almost ethereal appearance.

The young lady was wearing a white, frilly, long-sleeved blouse shirt with a black vest that was held together vertically along the center by thick, red-colored strings tied in ribbon knots. Despite the tight-fitting vest, it was clear that underneath the blouse was a sizable bust. She also wore a red, square-patterned skirt which reached to her knees and from there, a pair of black knee highs and leather shoes covered her feet. In addition, there was a black cape which reached between her knees and heel, while an enclosed tome hung from a belt on her waist by a small chain. And though she had tried to hide her face behind the brim of her hat, the man could see the young lady's beautiful silver blonde hair which perfectly complemented her fair, unblemished skin.

Rou could almost swore that he had finally seen a divine being or perhaps a devil, for in that moment, her elegant beauty had bewitched him. And looking at the intricate designs and expensive-looking materials which adorned her clothing, it was clear that she was someone of high status or at least related to one.

Without further ado, Rou stood up and quickly approached the nervous young lady.

He took the young lady's fair right hand and held it tightly with both of his. Then, he planted a kiss to the back of that fair hand. The surprised young lady's face turned red from the sudden and unexpected act. She was tongue-tied, unable to utter a coherent word.

"What is your name, young lady?" Rou asked, his voice had suddenly turned smooth as silk. He continued to stare intently into her eyes, admiring the magnificent pair of grey that was looking back at him.

"A-a-ah...I-I'm not a Y-young Lady..." the lass shakily asserted. "Ta-Tanya, my name is...Tanya," she eventually got out, after bouts of other inaudible and incomprehensible ramblings.

"I see, Tanya, a truly beautiful name," Rou commented. At this, puffs of steam seemed to be coming out of each of Tanya ears. She was whispering a bunch of incomprehensible things under her breath, yet it was so soft as to be inaudible to anyone else.

Seeing this, Rou suddenly recalled something. "Oh, how could I have been so absent-minded," Rou said, smacking himself on the head upon his realization of the problem.

"I am Yaroslav, Yaroslav Rubrik, but you can call me Rou like all my friends," Rou, Yaroslav, introduced himself as such to Tanya for the first time.

Then, bringing his mouth next to her left ear, Yaroslav asked in a whisper, "So, how can I help you, Miss Tanya?" to which the young woman's face turned a deeper shade of crimson, while all strength seemed to have left her knees. As she was about to fall, Yaroslav caught on to her.

"I see, you must be tired," Yaroslav guessed, nodding in an understanding tone. "In that case, you should lie down and rest,"

Then, sweeping Tanya off her feet, Yaroslav carried the young woman bridal style.

"Don't worry, there's a bed upstairs that's enough for the two us," Yaroslav assured with a smile. "The night is still young, so let's take our time and have a nice chat upstairs, shall we?" he said, as he began carrying her away to his inn room on the second floor of the tavern. And so the two spent the blissful night together.

Or at least that was Yaroslav's would have wanted...

However, it took Yaroslav only a few steps before he realized something dangerously murderous coming from behind him.

"Put her down, you dumbass!"

 _Smack!_

Feeling like something had broken against the back of his head, or perhaps it was indeed the back of his head that had broken, Yaroslav slumped onto the ground face first. Thankfully, it seemed as though he was still conscious enough to hold the blushing Tanya up, keeping her safe even as he slid across with his face planted onto the wooden floor board.

"Eh?" Yaroslav uttered as he turned around and looked up, wondering what had hit him alongside the murderous scream. He had an inkling that the voice was quite familiar to him.

"It's always, always, always...Even though you have me already, dumbass!"

Yaroslav saw Giselle standing over him, seemingly trying to hold back her tears as she berated him. Her eyes were wet, and her cheeks and nose show an impression of crimson.

A barrage of kicks suddenly came his way.

"Stupid Rou! It's always, always! Whenever I turn around for five seconds, you'd have caught another woman in your hands!" Giselle loudly lamented as she continued handing Yaroslav his punishment. "I know you've been...touching Maria over the last few months! Even then, you're still disappearing with the tavern girls every time we're in town! Now, you're even trying to drag an innocent girl into your bed! You're the worst! Take this, this, this!"

"Are you alright?" Maria asked, as she approached the confused Tanya.

"A-ah," Tanya answered, still dazed and confused.

"I see," Maria acknowledged with a smile. She extended her hand to the girl. "I think we should move away a little from here," she said. Tanya accepted the offer as the epicenter of trouble was gaining the attention of everyone in the tavern. Adventurers, townsmen, waitresses and even the bartender had turned their head to see what the commotion in the tavern hall was about. A gathering of onlookers were circling around the storm.

"What's going on?"

"Shouldn't we do anything about it?"

"It's a lover's quarrel,"

"Lover's quarrel?"

"They're all like that aren't they?"

The crowd was whispering and conversing among themselves, commenting on the apparent quarrel between a male adventurer and a female adventurer who were romantically involved.

"Pops, shouldn't you do anything about this?" a concerned adventurer asked the bartender. The bartender gave him an amused look in response.

"You haven't been here long, have you, boy?" the bartender asked the adventurer, with a sly smile.

"What does that have to do with anything?" the adventurer asked.

"Well, it happens all the time. Every time that party comes here for a meal, it's bound to end like this one way or another," the bartender explained. "Just ignore it, just ignore it," he advised. "Well, if they ended up breaking anything, I'll just add it to their tab like usual,"

"W-wait, Giselle!" Yaroslav tried to appeal. "Stop! Stop! I-I'm sorry, okay?" he begged. "I wasn't going to do anything funny, I swear!" Yaroslav insisted. "I think...I think Tanya might actually be a magician!" he reasoned.

Giselle abruptly stopped, though she was still half-sobbing.

" _Sniff..._ What do you... _sniff..._ mean?"

" _What are you even sobbing for?! I should be the one crying here!_ " was what Yaroslav wanted to say. But he didn't wish to lit another fuse.

"Ah, I noticed that she was carrying a wand on her waist belt," Yaroslav noted, as he was rubbing the back of his head. "Also, that tome she's carrying might actually be a book of spells," he added. "So, I was just thinking of interviewing her," Yaroslav insisted.

"...Liar..." the female archer meekly responded.

Seeing this, Yaroslav got back to his feet with a sigh and gave the sobbing young woman a hug. She quickly buried her face in his chest. He stroked the red ponytail's head over and over again, as her cat ears drooped.

"I'm sorry, Giselle. Were you lonely?" Yaroslav asked softly, to which she gave a slight nod. "I see...Well, we'll be in town a few days. So let's spend that time together," he said.

"...Uhm," came the response.

At this, a thunderous round of applause erupted in the tavern hall as the patrons gave their approval to the beautiful resolution.

"Alright, get back to your tables. There's nothing to see here," the bartender began his routine of dispersing the crowds. It was such a regular occurrence that he could do little but sigh at it.

"What a stupid couple," Ariman commented.

"Indeed," Gunther conceded.

Both gave a long sigh.

"In any case, isn't it about time you ask the young lass what she wants? Tanya was it?" Ariman prodded his party leader.

Yaroslav finally snapped out of his little world.

"Right!" he said, before turning to Tanya. "Sw...I mean, Tanya, I'm really sorry about that awkward scene, just now," Yaroslav said with an awkward laugh. "So, how can I help you?"

"Uhm...I heard your party talking...and it seems you needed a healer...so...c-can I join?" Tanya asked.

"Oh! You're really a magician?" Yaroslav excitedly asked, clasping both her hands. Tanya nodded a confirmation, her cheeks were blushing pink. Though Giselle seemed annoyed and unhappy at this, she relented.

"So, what sort of magic can you use?" Yaroslav asked with eager anticipation.

"Eh? I'm a...an Advanced-ranked magician in Fire and Wind Magic. I can also perform Healing and Detoxification Magics, up to the Intermediate rank," Tanya explained.

"Advanced?! And that many branches of magic!" Yaroslav can't help but voice his surprise.

The other party members too voiced their admiration upon hearing that. They understood just how high her value as a magician was, not only because of her rank in magic but also the variety of magic she can perform. Even the sulking female archer was impressed, enough that her mouth was slightly agape. Yaroslav, however, was concerned with something else.

"Eh...Are you really okay with joining our party?" he asked, his eyes looking away from her.

"Yes," Tanya responded.

"We're a B-ranked party, you know. I bet you can easily find better-ranked parties compared to us,"

Rather than becoming excited at the prospect of such a powerful - and beautiful - new ally, Yaroslav was concerned that the young woman was underselling herself. Normally, a magician with that kind of level would be looking to join A-ranked or even S-ranked parties which would be more capable of providing them with a higher income as well. He didn't want her to join his relatively low-ranked party only to regret it later when she found out her skill's true worth.

Also, while their party, the Black Bears, may be a B-ranked party, this was largely due to the fact that the party's vanguards were considered good fighters. Both Yaroslav and Gunther were Advanced-ranked in the North God-style. The rest of the party would probably be rated as C-rank at best for their skills with their weapons.

Of course, those ranks did not do them justice either as they failed to tell the whole story with regards to their individual abilities.

Ariman, for example, may be average at best as a tank, but his brilliant tactical input has allowed the party to perform well despite their individual limitations. And while Giselle may just be above-average in her accuracy as an archer, she was an excellent tracker and scout, allowing the party to always maintain the element of surprise over their targets until the last possible moment. As for Maria, she was a poor fighter whose skill with the dagger would probably put her at home in D or even E-ranked parties. However, her talent in logistics and information-gathering, as well as her knack for laying traps as well as avoiding or getting out of traps, not to mention her vast knowledge in concocting herbal medicines and poisons, were invaluable to the party.

Still, they were a B-ranked party, and one made out of misfits who could only find a home in the Black Bears. With her abilities as a magician, Tanya could easily fit in any A or even S-ranked parties, was what Yaroslav thought. The rank of a party decided the kind of quests they could take, and therefore the kind of reward they could get. The higher ranked the party, the better paying the quests.

"No, a B-ranked party is fine," Tanya interjected. "I'm...I've actually just started adventuring recently, so...I don't think I should be picking fights with very powerful monsters just yet," she explained. "Or...is that a no?" she asked, her watery eyes looking straight up into Yaroslav's.

"Of course!" Yaroslav exclaimed. "I'll be more than happy to welcome a beauti- I mean, a talented magician like you!" he added.

"I'm alright with that," Gunther concurred.

"By all means, please join us," Ariman happily chimed in.

"I'm glad," Maria expressed. "Welcome to the Black Bears, Tanya-chan!" Maria said as she gave the female magician a hug.

It was truly a joyous occasion for the Black Bears. Admitting such a valuable new entry into their party could eventually allow them to become an A-ranked party, perhaps in as little as a few months. But, not everyone was happy.

"...I -fuse..." Giselle whispered under her breath.

"Hmm? What?" Yaroslav asked, wondering if the female archer had said something.

"I refuse!" Giselle shouted, throwing cold water on everyone's enthusiasm.

"Eh?" the other party members were perplexed by the rejection.

"Why would you say that, Giselle?" Yaroslav asked.

She felt surprised to be asked that. Indeed, why would she disagree? If Tanya was as excellent a magician and healer as she said she was, there was no need to second guess it. With Tanya in the party, they would be able to take on more difficult quests and finish more quickly. Not to mention, being able to adventure more frequently, even upgrade their party's rank. Yet, she can't bring herself to accept the newcomer.

Giselle looked down, her bangs covering her eyes from view. Partially crossing her arms, her right hand holding onto her left elbow, she pondered her reasons.

"...I don't like it," Giselle finally said. "In the first place, why does it have to be a woman?! Why can't we find a man? Or at least a different woman?" she asked. " _Anyone but her!_ " she thought. "And why would an Advanced-ranked magician be looking to join our party? Don't you think it's strange? Shouldn't she be looking for an A or even S-ranked party? I don't get it! We only need an Elementary-ranked healer anyway!"

She knew deep down that she was being unreasonable. They were already lucky enough to find someone who might be a capable magician willing to join their team. It didn't matter whether she was a woman or a man, they wouldn't get another chance like this. But...

"... _I don't like this,_ "

Giselle understood the moment she saw Tanya, that she was a dangerous woman. She was dangerous as a woman. Not only did Tanya possess such stunning beauty that even Giselle herself had to begrudgingly admit to it, her feminine assets were also superior in every way. The way Rou's eyes was licking all over that woman, the way his cheeks blushed a trace of crimson as though he was a teenager falling in love for the first time, was proof enough for her. At this rate, their party would definitely crumble.

" _In comparison to those, I...Even though I'm a Dedorudia, why?_ " tears began falling from her eyes as she touched her own chest, drip by drip.

"Eh? W-why?" she wondered why her eyes were shedding tears. Just what was it that caused her sorrow?

Gunther, Ariman and Maria looked at her and then each other, before nodding in understanding. They uttered nothing, instead electing to give her the comfort of silence. Yaroslav, on the other hand, had wanted to reprimand her for her selfishness, but lost the heart to do so. Despite everything, he was a man who was weak to a woman's tears.

Tanya, meanwhile, was looking around in confusion.

" _Ahh, I get it...This is just...my own anxiety, my own insecurities..._ "

She realized that her reasons weren't pure. They have nothing to do with the interests of the party.

" _But...why now?_ "

Giselle had overlooked Yaroslav's indecent behavior for as long as they have been together. The fact that he had continued chasing after skirts every chance he got and the fact that he had touched Maria, Giselle had ignored all of that. She was confident. She had believed that he wasn't going to seriously pursue any of them. That in the end, she will be the one who would end up by his side. But if it was Tanya, if it was that woman, then maybe...

"Ahh! I don't know...Stupid Rou!" Giselle shouted as she ran out the door.

"Ah, Giselle, wai...tch," Yaroslav tried to call, but the girl had already gone out the door. Then, he turned to Tanya with an apologetic look.

" _Sigh..._ I'm sorry about this Tanya. Though, you have nothing to worry about. Giselle will take a bit of convincing, but I'm sure she will come to accept you," he assured her. "In any case, as party leader, allow me to say this. Welcome to the Black Bears!" Yaroslav declared, extending his hand towards her, which she took.

After the hand shake, he too bolted out the door to look for the missing cat girl.

At this point in time, neither Yaroslav nor Tanya knew what fate had in store for them.

Perhaps only the uneasily Giselle had any inkling. Though for Giselle, that inkling was the result of her own fears and insecurities more than anything else. Still, it turned out to be a close prediction.

But not even she could have imagined what came after that.

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 **Author's Note: First, I'd like to thank all my readers and especially all my reviewers. Zisqal deserve special mention here for being my first reviewer and having consistently reviewed the chapters, thank you. Second, I'd like to say sorry for the long and unannounced hiatus (yes, that's what it was). Quite a dick move, I know. Unfortunately, my IRL schedule over the past few months have been more hectic and I can't dedicate as much time to my hobby of writing.**

 **Also, I have felt my story-telling to be a bit lacking and that has also driven me to spend some time reading other web novels and LNs to get a feel for where I could improve, writing and plot-wise. I'll make up for hiatus over time by releasing those chapters I have in deficit as well.**

 **Next, regarding the coming chapters, the next two (which I've already completed) will be released over the next week, Chapter 5.5.2 and 5.5.3, which as you might guess, is actually still part of Chapter 5.5. Given how long this chapter (5.5) ended up being, however, I had to split them into four, although Chapter 5.5.4 may have to be split into 2 again if they end up being more than 12,000 words after I'm done polishing. Still, I hope to release all of Chapter 5.5 and perhaps even Chapter 6 by the end of the month.**

 **As for those wishing for more regular updates, I hear you. But I'll be honest and say that I find it difficult to release any more than 20,000 words of content a month. Assuming I go for shorter 3,000 to 6,000-word chapters (which I'm seriously considering), it should be possible to make a weekly update. Tell me what you think, whether you prefer longer, less frequent chapters or shorter but more frequent chapters. Of course, if were me, I'd prefer the chapter length to be decided by where in the story I can find a reasonable point, preferably a cliffhanger, to end it.**

 **As for any questions regarding future plot, unfortunately I can't answer them. So, I'm sorry but you will just have to suffer through the anxiety of not knowing for certain. But, isn't that part of what makes reading a story so fun? So, yes, please don't ask for spoilers. I will say, however, that I aim to please for the most part and that is all I will say on the matter.**

 **P.S. Also, there's apparently 2 more stories now listed under Mushoku Tensei in FF. Good, it's been really lonely being the only one here for a while. I hope to see more stories being started and posted since that would also attract more readers, which may in turn inspire more writers etc.**


	7. Chapter 5-5-2: Genesis - Till Death Do

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mushoku Tensei and all rights to Mushoku Tensei belong to it's respective owners**

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 **Chapter 5.5.2: Genesis - Till Death Do Us Part**

In a dark alley between rows of taverns and inns in Rozenburg's adventurer's district, a young woman was pinned against the wall. Helpless and unable to move, both her hands had been tied together with, of all things, her very own cape. As her hands were held up high above her head by the assailant's tight grip, the young woman was unable to even twitch a single arm muscle, much less attempt a getaway.

"No!" she let out a helpless whimper as the man's other hand was slowly tracing along the features of her face. His fingers pressed against her rosy lips, gently caressing her supple cheeks, running across the outline of her jaw to her chin, then moving down gradually towards her voluptuous bosom.

"No!" she cried out again. He stopped just short of touching her there.

The young woman hated the situation she had found herself in. Were at least one of her hands free, she swore that her assailant would have become nothing more than skid marks on the cold, cobblestone road. Given a second chance, she swore she would not hesitate again. Not anymore, not after knowing what he intended to put her through.

She would summon a [Wind Blast] or unleash [Water Canon] on him, perhaps even a [Flame Pillar] just to be sure, never mind their year-long friendship. Things were going to get awkward between them from now on regardless of what she was going to do, what she should have done.

"Come on, Tanya. We've known each other for over a year now," the man beckoned. His eyes burned with desire. "Isn't it about time you give up?"

"No! I don't want to! I won't!" she answered, throwing the man a scornful look.

The friendship they had formed over the long year, to think that the man before her would think nothing of throwing it all away, risking all of that goodwill and all of those fond memories they had built together, and for what exactly? Romance?

She was appalled by his willingness to risk her ire for such a worthless gamble, all in order to chance upon an opportunity to egg her on for her consent to what he must have thought was an irresistibly persuasive offer of his, an intimate relationship with him, if not a committed one then at least for one blissful night.

The fact that he would even suggest such a casual fling had incensed her.

Her esteemed parents had taught her that it was a man's role in life to take responsibility and to be honorable, and that she should find a spouse in only such a man, preferably one who was also gifted with both pedigree and talent. Yet, knowing what she knew of the man before her, she wondered if he even understood the meaning of honor and duty. She would not sell herself short for this sort of man, gallant and strong as he may be. Her parents would never find peace were she to do that.

Still, a part of her wondered what it was that this man saw in her.

Did he think her pretty? Attractive? Even beautiful, perhaps?

One could not help but ponder what it was that he saw in her insignificant self as to drive him to risk so much, even his own livelihood. Had this man not told her over and over again how invaluable she was to the party, to his adventurer's party? That they would not have become an A-ranked party were it not for her? Then, why risk her leaving by doing all this? Why risk their cozy relationship? Why risk it at all?

And what about them? Would they be angered with her were she to, hypothetically, accept his offer for a romantic relationship? Awkward as it may be, this was his attempt at courting, wasn't it? He seemed to sincerely believe it, at least. Then, would it be rude of her to refuse? Would he come to hate her were she to refuse? Would he never again attempt to hold her in his arms then?

" _No! No! No! No! What am I even thinking?!_ "

Her face flushed and her cheeks stained with a shade of crimson, the scornful look she was giving him quickly grew unconvincing.

Unable to resist the look she was giving him, the man moved closer, pressing his lips against hers. He basked in the sensation of her soft and rosy lips. Parting for a mere moment, he returned again and again for that sensation. Those short, blissful moments had bewitched him, enslaving him to its pleasures. His tongue pushed past her lips, searching the inner sanctum of her mouth. Finally uniting with hers, they tangled, melding as their tongues moved back and forth in a contest for dominance.

Reluctant as she may be, in this instance, she knew she had little choice but accept his aggressive advances. Just this much, she had no choice and thus, she relented. If it were just to this small extent, surely her parents in heaven would understand.

"Mmmhhh!"

The man reluctantly let go, parting from the young woman's luscious lips. Both were gasping for mouthfuls of air as their eyes looked at one another intensely.

"Rou...that was...my first kiss," the young woman said. "Don't you already...have Giselle and Maria?" she asked, her glistening eyes looking resentfully into his. Though, it was hard to convince anyone that she truly felt nothing but scorn for it.

"This and that are different," he answered nonchalantly. "Look, Tanya, just once is fine. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as well,"

"No!" she shouted, turning her eyes away even as her blush betrayed her sentiments.

"But why not? Do you hate me that much?" he asked.

"What? Do you not realize what you're doing?!" she shot back.

"Trying to get an honest answer from you?" he answered, as though that should have been obvious. "Look, you've hung me dry for a year now," the man said. "No matter how many times I asked, you've always given me non-answers. Do you like me or do you hate me? I have no idea. And I'd like to know your answer, Tanya. A definite one this time,"

"Would you leave me alone if I reject you?" she asked.

"Well, all I'll be saying is that I'll think about it,"

"T-then...-o..."

The woman mumbled off an answer, but it was too soft for the man to hear despite their distance.

"Hmm? Can you repeat that?" the man asked.

"...Yes...I...hate you. Yes! I hate you! I hate you, Rou! I really, really hate you!" the woman, Tanya, answered, her voice growing louder as her emotions heightened with each and every word.

"...W-well...was my estimation that off-the-mark, after all? Hahaha," he laughed it off, having been caught off-guard for the first time in living memory. In all his years of experience dealing with the opposite sex, he had never been rejected so intensely. While not intending to brag, Yaroslav always knew that his handsome features and physical strength were traits that made him, at least to the best of his knowledge, universally popular with the fairer sex.

" _I remember that Tanya was always looking my way, only to quickly turn her face around when I look back. I thought that meant she was showing interest at least. Even Ariman said I had a good chance with her, and he's not one to be wrong when analyzing things. Did I get it wrong, after all? To think that it wasn't even indifference, but hatred..._ "

Yaroslav recalled what he thought were hints of her interest with forlorn gloom and more than a little embarrassment.

"S-so, you really hate me, huh? Hahaha, I see..."

His prospects dashed, Yaroslav slowly let go of Tanya, awkwardly moving further away from her, before leaning his back against the wall behind him. He thought he wasn't one for dramatics, but it truly felt as if his confidence in a fundamental part of himself had been shattered in that moment of rejection.

Having calmed down a little, the man thought that he should at least hear out her reasons. Maybe all was not lost, yet.

"So...why do you hate me, Tanya? You'll tell me at least that, won't you?"

She looked into his eyes, perplexed, as though she could not understand him at all.

"...Why? Why?! Are you really asking why?!" Tanya asked with tense, simmering rage. "You're more often a jerk than not! You can never keep your pants on for long! As long as it's a somewhat pretty woman, you'll chase after her. You don't even care that you already have Giselle and Maria. What are you?! Rabbit? Monkey? So long as it's a hole, you don't care who it's attached to, do you? Maybe you don't even care what it's attached to. Pervert! Philanderer! Maggot! Womanizer! Enemy of women!"

Her sudden outburst left him speechless. As her flood of misgivings poured forcefully like the trails of tears streaming down her face, Rou could not help but hold his tongue. He never thought it possible for him to accrue such animosity from her. They had certainly never been on bad terms before. Well, she had called him all sorts of things on occasions, but they seemed to be in jest, as far as he could remember.

Truly, he never once considered his dealings with the fairer sex as cruel or unjust. That he was fond of women was a nature that he had long ago come to terms with. But, he made sure to care for each of the women he fondled like the pretty little flowers they were. He made them feel special, each and everyone of them, as each was a special experience for him as well.

All along, he had believed that the only ones who would seriously curse him for it would the throng of jealous men and angry husbands.

Was that just a naive wish of his, after all?

He considered leaving her alone quietly for the night. But as he took the first steps out of the alley, her hoarse voice crackled words that stopped him.

"...s _ob..._ But...why is it? Why is it...whenever I'm with you, my chest always tightens up?" she suddenly asked, her arms crossed over her eyes, as though intent on hiding the stream of tears that was dropping onto the cold stone pavement. "I hate it! _Sob_...why? It's beating so fast...it's...painful,"

"...Huh?" Yaroslav looked back in surprise.

" _Sob..._ Even though I hate it...when you're close with the other women...why did I...feel happy when you stole my lips? Why?" she asked sobbing. "Why did I feel...regret when you part away from me? Why? I hate this!"

"Wa-...wait a minute, doesn't that mean...huh? Could it be, you..." the man turned back, still uncertain of what she meant.

He was certain that she was serious when she said she hated him. She actually was, wasn't she? But there's clearly more to it.

Here he was thinking of getting a drink and knocking himself cold for the night. He had even made the decision to come to terms with his failure to reach for her, to finally let go of that pristine and beautiful winter flower that he had longed to possess from the moment he first saw her. To think that she herself would put a stop to such considerations after he has already made his resolve, he felt like he should laugh at it.

" _This contradictory character_..."

Somehow, she reminded him of a certain fiery redhead of a cat-woman. Perhaps, the young woman before him had just yet to realize and sort out her own feelings and insecurities as well. Yaroslav approached the young woman and with a sigh, pulled her into his tight embrace. She didn't resist him this time. Amidst the cold autumn night, they basked silently in the warmth of one another's embrace. " _What a silly little thing you are,_ " he thought, amused.

Minutes passed in comforting silence. Finally she spoke.

"That's what this is, isn't it? My true feelings," she asked. "Maria said as much, but...I didn't want to believe it," Tanya said, having finally calmed down.

She then looked into his eyes and told him what she already knew all along, the words she had denied for so long.

"Rou, I love you,"

"Ah," he acknowledged.

The ends of her lips curled upwards in a smile as she rested her head on his broad chest, listening to the regular beating of his heart, allowing his warmth to envelop her. Happiness and relief seemed to have overcome her, as though a heavy burden had just been lifted from her tiny shoulders.

"But I wonder, why does it have to be jerk like you?" she asked, though this time, those words held no trace of resentment. Only a sense of curious wonder at her own sense of values.

"There's no need to say that part, is there?" Yaroslav cheerfully complained, playfully flicking her forehead. He then caressed her cheek, wiping away the traces of her tears and looking to continue once more from where they left off.

Their eyes locked in contact, he slowly moved his lips towards hers. But before he can reach and feel that gentle and supple sensation once more, she stopped him, as sought for the confirmation of his feelings.

"Rou, do you seriously love me?" she asked.

"Of course, I do, Tanya," he answered with clear confidence. "Of course, I do," he repeated.

"Then, say it clearly," she beckoned.

As far as Yaroslav was concerned, no word needed to be said on this, it was a given. An obvious fact. But to this young woman, no, to this girl before him, putting those feelings into words was important. And if that would put her heart at ease, then he would say them as many times as he needed to.

"I love you, Tanya. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you have bound and conquered my heart,"

"Then, will you marry me, Rou?"

...

"...huh? W-what?"

He couldn't understand what she meant. Did he even hear her right? If so, when did it turn into a question of marriage all of a sudden? In the first place, why would she ask if he was willing to marry her? They haven't even dated yet. Once more, Yaroslav found her thoughts to be incomprehensible.

"Wait, wait a minute. Just how did it come to this?" he asked, hoping that he had actually misheard her question. "I think we're skipping a few crucial steps here,"

"Do you not understand, Rou?" Tanya inquired. "I don't mind giving you my first time, but I have no interest in giving it to a man who isn't serious," she explained. "If you just want a woman to have a bit of fun with, to warm your bed for a night, then you should go and find someone else. Those women are a dime a dozen, but Rou, I'm not one of them,"

Looking into those solemn, serious eyes, with a sigh and heavy heart, Yaroslav let go of Tanya's hands. He felt he's been sighing a lot lately. Leaning against the wall opposite her's, and while rubbing on the black hair on his head, he agonized over her offer, or rather, her ultimatum. After giving it much thought, he realized there was only ever one answer to give.

" _..._ I'll gladly accept your offer, definitely, but..." though happy with her suggestion for marriage, Yaroslav had another outstanding issue he was agonizing over. If he had no one else he was seeing, he would have leapt at the chance without a second thought. However, "...how am I suppose to propose to Giselle and Maria so out of the blue?" he wondered aloud.

"What do you mean? Do you intend to marry them as well?" she asked, somewhat bewildered.

"I shouldn't?"

" _Sigh..._ Rou, can you really afford to have 3 wives? What happens when there's children? Do you happen to be a wealthy merchant or landed nobility, perhaps?" she asked sarcastically.

Although polygyny was widely accepted throughout the Central Continent, it did not mean that it was widely practiced. The traditional expectations that a man is honor-bound to provide for his wife and family meant that it was only socially permissible for men who could afford it to take more than one wife and even perhaps, multiple concubines in addition, as was common among wealthy noblemen.

However, most commoners, with the exception of wealthy merchants, were generally monogamous.

Of course, there were men who married more than 1 woman or took another as his mistress without being able to provide well enough for both, but these men were generally considered as social outcasts, ostracized and mocked by their peers and community. Yaroslav realized these implications as well.

Additionally, there's the fact that Tanya herself does not seem keen on allowing such an arrangement even if Yaroslav could afford it.

"I see...But to tell this to Giselle and Maria as well...Those girls will surely fall into despair," he lamented. "And I don't know how I'd react if they ended up crying..."

"He~...I didn't know you cared for them that much, Rou. For anyone really," she commented.

"...What do you mean?"

"What are you acting like a saint for all of a sudden?" she asked, her tone playful but her eyes strangely empty of light.

"Eh?"

"Haven't you broken plenty of hearts already?" Tanya asked with a smile, an eerie mismatch with the condescending tone of her voice.

"...Tanya,"

"Did you not notice? Or perhaps you did not want to notice," she teased. "Giselle, Maria, the tavern waitresses, and so many of the town girls and the assortment of other wenches you've bed...I've seen their eyes glistened whenever they look at you, as though they were longing for something they can never attain," she noted. "What a sinful man you are, Rou, stealing so many maidens' hearts, stringing them along as you go without ever giving any one of them a definite answer," she bemoaned. "You've asked for an answer from me, would you not give yours to them?"

Yaroslav fell quiet once more. He couldn't argue with her.

"And did you mention despair?" she continued. "Despair? You're afraid they'll fall into despair? Who? Giselle? Maria?"

"What sort of despair do you think they're living in right now?"

"What kind of nightmare do you think you're keeping them in?"

"You're worried that you'd end up seeing them in tears?"

The barrage of questions were laced with disdainful giggles. To Yaroslav's surprise, the woman before him had changed completely from that insecure little girl just a moment ago. She was now goading him, egging him on, sarcastic and full of confidence. Pausing for but a moment, Tanya then extended her hands. Grasping onto Yaroslav's rugged cheeks, she looked straight into his eyes and asked in a voice devoid of any playful tone.

"Then, Rou, do you care about the tears that they shed in silence?"

He had no retort to give. He knew that she had hit the nail on the head.

He had long avoided seeing the harmful effects of his lifestyle, the agony that his choices had caused to the many women who had sought him out. The casual flings were one thing, but he has had many long-term partners too, dated them for years, knew them intimately, yet invariably, they eventually left him one after another once realizing that in the end, there was nothing they could do could get him to choose them for good. He knew why they all left him. He knew why they agonized over him. But he chose to see only the happy moments he had spent with them, convinced that they had cherished them too.

He was a free spirit, there was no way he would clip his wings and settle down onto earth.

At least, that was what he told himself over and over again. In reality, Tanya was right, no matter how good he was as an adventurer, he was still a commoner. And the adventurer lifestyle wasn't exactly suited to building up the savings to start a large family. He could not afford to start a large family, yet proposing to settle down with one woman meant rejecting all the others he was involved with. Could he choose one over another? Of course not! That goes against his sense of commitment.

And surely, were he to choose one, others would part from him in tears just as his own mother had. He still vividly recalled his mother's tearful, wailing sorrow. The tears she had shed when his father abandoned her for another woman was seared into his childhood memory. He swore to never become like him.

Yet, once he grew up, he realized that he was weak to the advances of women, attracted to both his status as one of the strongest adventurers in the Northern Lands and the handsome features he had inherited from his father. As he grew older, he found himself not only passively accepting those advances, but also seeking them out on his own. He had become enslaved by the pleasures of the flesh and enraptured the comfort he found in the bosom of those women. Thus, more and more, he came closer and closer to the image of his philandering father. When he was old and wise enough to realize it, he despaired. He realized that he had become no different from his own hated father. He had broken his own oath, an oath he had made amidst heated passions and the fires of anger.

But, there was still one aspect where he was still different from his father.

There was one line he had yet to cross.

He had never left a woman in tears the way his father had left his mother. Perhaps instinctively, he simply never wanted to see those tears again. While he could not change what he had become, and eventually came to accept them as his own nature and therefore inevitable, he swore to uphold at least this tenet, a line that he would never cross. And he had never crossed it.

Still, he realized that Tanya was right. Despite his efforts in denying it, he was his father's son, a philandering man who would throw away the women he was done with like used rags. That they were the ones who elect to break up with him was merely a convenience for him. It was he who had driven them into that. And surely, they too must have shed their tears in silence, in places he would not see and where their wailing voices would not reach him. That he chose to delude himself was merely to save his own conscience.

Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, Yaroslav considered what he was going to do next.

However, it seemed that he had been thinking for too long.

"Well, whatever," the impatient Tanya said, as she parted from Yaroslav. "It's your choice, Rou...no, Yaroslav Rubrik," she called, issuing her ultimatum. "Choose...whether to spend the rest of your days with me, or whether you'd rather go with Giselle or Maria,"

"...Or would you prefer to continue your decadent lifestyle, grow old all alone and die in a ditch somewhere with no one to care for you?" she then added.

"...No, I'll make my choice. But, just to be sure...what happens if I don't choose to marry you, Tanya?" Yaroslav asked.

"Then, I'll quit the party," she answered. "I'll be too fearful for my chastity," she reasoned. "Besides, rather than hurting myself by staying beside a man I can't have, I'd rather go far away and forget that such a jerk even existed,"

" _Pushing me to make a decision while emotions from earlier still run high. Clever girl,_ " Yaroslav thought. " _Where did she learn to talk like that_?"

Women has always been his greatest weakness, in more ways than one. But despite his way of life, he realized that he may actually knew less of them than he would care to admit. And now once again, he was made to realize just how little he knew of the woman in front of him.

Despite her feminine looks and behavior, Tanya had turned out to be a very perceptive woman. She had her insecurities, certainly, as can be expected of such a young girl barely into her adulthood. Yet, it was clear that there was an inner strength simmering just beneath her surface, and a keen intellect that she hides very well.

Who or what was she exactly? Even a year after they've met, a year that they've spent fighting together in the same party, drinking in the same taverns and eating on the same tables, he still knew nothing of her beyond her name and her skills. This was the first time Yaroslav had even glimpsed this side of her, a perceptive yet manipulative side, a side he never even knew existed. It was scary to think that she could read his mind that well, it even made him wonder if her tears earlier were all premeditated.

" _Nah, can't be,_ "

It felt real enough. Besides, if he let this glimpse of her scare him into paranoia, there was no way he could have the resolve to spend the rest of his days with her. From now on, he would only see more and more of her, after all.

After giving it serious thought, Yaroslav approached Tanya and firmly patted her on the head. "You aren't being cute at all," he commented, smiling as he rubbed on that beautiful silver blonde mane. "Haah~ Where did my beautiful Tanya go, I wonder?" he sighed.

"What are you talking about? I'm always beautiful!" she pouted.

"Is that something you should be saying yourself?" he asked, half-jokingly. Then, he handed her a key. "Here,"

"This is?"

"For my room at the inn," he answered. "Wait for me there, I'll talk with Giselle and Maria,"

With that, the two parted their separate ways, with a promise to meet once more once the dusk had turned to day.

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In a quiet room of an inn on the second floor of a tavern, a young woman was waiting silently. She has been waiting throughout the night, patiently awaiting the arrival of the man who had sworn to become hers.

Yaroslav had sworn to marry her.

Though he wasn't the prince in shining armor that she had dreamed of marrying in her childhood, she too had sworn to accept him. In the first place, the prince clad in shining armor, mounted upon a white horse, with his regal figure, handsome features and virtuous behaviors were but romanticized portrayals of nobility. They were fit only for children's fairy tales. Tall tales spun to adorn a young princess' dreams.

In reality, kings, princes and noblemen were more likely to be cruel and ruthless men than not.

Though he may not be that kind prince from a children's fairy tale, Yaroslav's strength, his audacity and his kindness had long ago won her heart. A man kind enough that he could not even willingly break a woman's heart. It took her nudging to eventually convince him to choose someone.

Pathetic, a bachelor who had grown old because he could not make the difficult choices. Though that kindness was probably why she fell for him in the first place. And in the year they've spent together, and though she had long tried to deny it, her feelings for him have only grown stronger.

While he may not be clad in shining armor, and neither did he have a white horse, Yaroslav did have slightly above average looks. He was handsome and rugged, in fact. His body was also muscular and well-toned.

His behavior and sense of virtue left a lot to be desired, but he was by no means a bad man. Certainly, he was was never willfully evil. So it was enough for Tanya if that kind of man could become her one and only prince.

She could only hope that her parents in heaven would be happy with their daughter's choice in marriage. He may not be a young man like her parents would have ideally wanted, but she could have expected to marry a much older man, perhaps, had things not gone so sour for her family. If she were lucky, perhaps a handsome and prominent son of that older man, assuming he had one. Though more likely, it would be a spoiled and poorly-raised brat that would put the Iron Wreath to shame.

"Meeting with Giselle and Maria...huh?"

Tanya wondered if Yaroslav could even utter the words he needed to say when he met them. What if he decided to hug them and push them down instead?

"What am I saying?" she derided herself. "Even though I've already confirmed his feelings,"

Even if she hasn't, she should always trust him. After all, wasn't that what the ideal wife would do?

Rays of light broke through the slits of the wooden shutters that decorate the window, as the morning sun shone to signal the arrival of day.

A knock on the door.

"Come in," she beckoned, almost unable to contain her mix of excitement and expectations.

The door slowly opened, revealing a man with two crimson, hand-shaped marks on both of his cheeks. Looking at the man and the marks on his face, Tanya smiled.

It was a sincere smile, the first of its kind she had shown him, though one could sense a tinge of loneliness in them too.

"Welcome back, Rou," Tanya said to the man, as she walked towards him.

Yaroslav embraced the woman tightly, wrapping his arms around her, breathing in the distinctly sweet scent of her silky, waist-length hair. This was a moment he wanted to commit to memory.

"I'm back,"

It was one memory that he swore to remember till the end of his days...

...

"...By the way, Rou...I don't mean to ruin such a nice scene, but...why do you reek of alcohol?"

"...Eh?!"

"...W-h-a-t I-s I-t?"

The icy morning air of the Northern Lands chilled by a few more degrees within the room. A pair of cold, gleaming eyes looked up into a pair of fearful ones. Unless something was done, a scene from hell may have a place to play down on earth, in a certain inn room on the second floor of a certain tavern.

"Eh? Ah! This isn't what you think, I swear!" Yaroslav flustered. "This is just Maria pouring a drink on me!"

"Really?" Tanya asked, unconvinced.

"Believe me, Tanya!" Yaroslav begged, as he hugged Tanya tightly. Then, while holding onto her shoulders, he looked her in the eye to convince her of his sincerity. "Tanya, you know me. We've known each other for over a year now. Since when did I ever lie to you?!"

"...Eh? Isn't that like, most of the time?"

 _Crack_

Something broke then, it might have been Yaroslav's actually fragile heart, but nobody knew for sure.

" _Pffft..._ Hahaha, ah...I'm sorry," Tanya apologized amidst her laughter. "I didn't realize you'd be so distraught as to have that kind of empty, blank face when I pointed out the obvious," she said. "But I see, Maria, huh? I'd never expect that kind girl to do something like that,"

"E-eh? Wh-What does that mean? D-Does that mean you still don't trust me?" Yaroslav asked.

"No, I trust you," Tanya answered swiftly. A look of cool confidence was displayed within her light ashen eyes. "Since I've decided to become yours, so of course, I will trust my prince!"

"Prince? Ahh, from those popular children's fairy tales, huh? In any case, hmm...I see...thank you," Yaroslav said. Then, taking Tanya's right hand with his left, he knelt before her, a knee on the ground in genuflection. "I know it's probably a little late for this, but...Tanya, my lady, may this Yaroslav Rubrik have the privilege of taking my fair lady's hand in marriage?"

It was a short proposal, mimicking the image of a knight or prince proposing to a lady. Though a little crude and unpracticed, and spoken with formal-sounding words that were jumbled together on the spot, it was heartfelt and sincere.

But the tearful answer that Yaroslav wished for wasn't forthcoming.

Slowly, Tanya pulled her hands away from his. Yaroslav did not move from his spot. He could not move from his spot. He forgot to even breath. Then...

"Ta-Tanya, can I-"

"Rou..." Tanya suddenly interrupted. Partially crossing her arms, she fidgeted about, uncertain.

Steeling herself, she looked Yaroslav in the eyes. They were wavering. Her eyes too, were wavering. "Rou..." she called. Then, in a voice that sounded almost like a whisper, she uttered her hesitation. "...are you sure if its me?"

"...Huh? What do you mean by that? Of course, I want you! Why else would I break off with everyone else?!" he asked, bewildered. There was a sound of anger mixed in as well. He had been fully prepared to cut off all social contact just to be with her, yet why did she seem to be backing down all of a sudden?

"That's because you don't know me!" she screamed. "I know that you think of me as some harmless flower that you can pluck and gaze at,"

"Tanya..."

"But, I'm not, Rou, I'm not," she repeated. "If only you knew of me, surely you will leave me. Surely, you will not want to be with me,"

"Tanya, listen to me," Yaroslav said. "I've already resolved to live the rest of my life with you, come what may. If you think that there could be something about you that will drive me away from that, try me,"

"No! I won't!" she shouted.

"Tanya, why?" he asked, exasperation surfacing in his voice.

"Because you'll leave. You'll definitely leave..." she lamented. "And...I don't want that..."

A moment of silence passed between them. Only the sounds of a bustling town awakening to its morning activities could be heard from outside. But within the room that the two shared, there was only an uncomfortable silence.

"You know, Rou...Giselle came over last night," Tanya suddenly continued. "From her tears and swollen eyes, I could already guess that she came over after meeting you," Tanya broke into a self-depreciating smile as she paused for a moment. "Do you know what she called me?" she asked. "A dangerous woman and a thieving cat... _Pffft ahahaha..._ I'm sorry but that last one was funny since she is the cat girl," she explained. "But, she wasn't wrong,"

"Rou, you probably see me as a kind woman, a beautiful and harmless flower perhaps, but that is because you have no idea of the thorns I carry," Tanya said. "Well, I suppose you have been witness to a part of one," she noted. "Since you wanted to know, I'll tell you a little about myself. I'm the kind of vile woman who had forced you to break up with your lover of 4 years and another of 15 months. It doesn't have anything to do with you being a commoner either. A high-ranked former Adventurer with Advanced-ranked North God-style swordsmanship skills, even a commoner, could easily find good employment in the service of a lord. Being a serjeant-at-arms would pay well enough to support 2 wives and many children if you're just a little careful with the budget. No, I just don't want anyone else. Even if you were a nobleman or a wealthy merchant, I would have pushed you to do the same," she explained. "I'm just that kind of twisted, jealous woman. To be honest, even though they've called me their friends, I saw Giselle and Maria as nothing more than my enemies. Nuisances I needed to get rid of. And you've done that for me splendidly," she revealed.

"I'm sure you're disgusted with me by now, aren't you, Rou. Just knowing one thing about me must have sickened you. As for the rest, I've always planned to bring them with me to my grave. Surely, you can't imagine living the rest of your life with a woman who keeps so many secrets, can you? When you don't even know what they will lead you to, the kind of troubles they will bring you. Now, now, tell m-"

She went quiet suddenly as Yaroslav's hand approached her face. He was going to beat her, a well-deserved hit for a vile woman like herself, was what she thought.

But-

 _Plop!_

That strong and sturdy hand landed kindly on her head, rubbing and patting her hair with both firmness and affection.

"Then, doesn't that make you the perfect woman for me?" he asked, pointing at himself as he smiled with a wide grin that went from ear to ear.

"Huh? Didn't you he-"

"Didn't you always call me all sorts of things, what were they? There's pervert, idiot, jerk, dumbass, scum...well, those are the only ones I remember at the top of my head," though he started cheerfully, Yaroslav couldn't help but lose his cheerful motivation as he counted down the names he had been called by Tanya. "Still, if you're a vile woman, then a vile man like me makes a perfect match, right?"

"..."

Without saying anything, drops of tears began falling slowly from her eyes.

"Tanya, if you don't want to tell me about your past, then you don't have to. I don't care about them as much as I care about you now. Who you really are, where you came from, what you've done in past, that isn't relevant for me. You're right that I know nothing about them and perhaps I might be swayed if I were to find out. But-" Yaroslav's right hand moved closer to Tanya's face. Caressing her cheeks, he wiped away her tears. "I know you're not as bad a girl as you think you are. Well, it's a bit embarrassing coming from someone who has only watched you for a year..." he acknowledged. "But I know that a truly vile woman would never have purposely tried to make others hate her because of her own perceived shortcomings and imperfections, especially not with this expression on her face,"

" _Sob..._ Rou... _sob_ "

"Tanya, I may be an idiot, I may not know all that much about you, but I know enough to say with confidence that I've fallen for you," Yaroslav declared. "I love you Tanya, would you be my wife?"

"Rou!" Tanya shouted, as she leapt into his arms, sobbing and crying, her pent up frustrations and worry having finally found absolution. She repeatedly called his name over and over again amidst her sobbing. "Ah, I'll be your wife! I'll be your wife! I love you, Rou! I love you!"

Smiling as he heard those words of confirmation, Yaroslav moved his face closer to hers. Their lips met in a warm embrace, as the two new lovers confirmed their feelings for one another. The fires of their passions burned brightly. What began as a tinder of love was now kindled by ardent lust. Their morning would not arrive yet for several more hours, as the two souls sought release for their inflamed passions, which melded amidst the drowning voices of carnal pleasures.

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Nearly a week would pass before Yaroslav would set up an official meeting with the rest of the Black Bears in their usual tavern to inform them of his intention to leave the party and settle down with his newlywed wife. The couple had gotten married just 3 days after they had confirmed their feelings for one another.

Marriage was a simple affair for adherents of the Asuran gods, who collectively were the most worshiped deities throughout the Central Continent. Attendance at a temple, before a priest or priestess was encouraged, but not necessary. After all, the gods bore witness to all under heaven. What was necessary was a vow between the spouses-to-be, and at least one friend or relative to act as a witness among Man. So the couple had dragged two members of their party to be their witnesses, and they've also decided to hold their vows at a local temple in the city, paying a bit of coin in donations.

They had actually invited everyone in the Black Bears but needless to say, Giselle and Maria did not turn up. They could not turn up.

" _Sigh..._ I knew this was going to happen when you dragged us to the temple," Ariman said.

"What? You mean the Black Bears?" Yaroslav asked.

"What else would I mean? We're disbanding, aren't we?" Ariman concluded. "With our leader and healer gone, we'll be in for a hard time as a party. That's assuming the four of us who remain won't go our separate ways. But that isn't happening," he explained. "With you gone, I'd bet that both Giselle and Maria would want out. There's just no way they'd be willing to stay with just us two. Besides, I'm sure they'll just be hurting if they keep seeing our faces and you're not here,"

"...I see. But if you knew that, why were you playing cupid? I heard from Tanya that you've been trying to get us closer or something?"

"Shouldn't you be glad for that?" Ariman asked. "Well, to be honest, I didn't think things would turn out the way it did. I just knew that she liked you and thought that if I helped her along, she'll introduce me to some of her girlfriends," he admitted. "Who knows, maybe one of them is a beauty just for me,"

"You're a real scum, aren't you?"

"I don't want to hear that from you!" Ariman shouted. " _Sigh..._ But yeah, I did think it was about time you should settle down," he admitted. "I mean, we're talking about the 32-year-old 'eternal' bachelor, after all. An old man has no place in a party of young'uns. Shoo! Get out, get out!" he playfully said.

"Since, you thought that way, then I suppose you'll be fine from here on out, right?" Yaroslav asked.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Ariman nodded.

"What about you, Gunther?" Yaroslav turned to the other man in the party.

"I'll make do," the man said. "Besides, I also planned to settle down if I survive the next few year. So it's not like I don't understand your position,"

"I see...Thanks, both of you,' Yaroslav said, as he shook their hands with gratitude. "The years I've spent with you all, I'll never forget them!"

The party then went their separate ways, after officially disbanding at the city's Adventurer's Guild. Yaroslav thought that parting on bad terms with Giselle and Maria was something he couldn't help, but still, it was regrettable. He asked Gunther and Ariman to help console them, stating that it was his wish for them to make peace with what happened. Maybe it won't be immediately, but given time, their wounds should heal.

As a last parting gift, Yaroslav handed two letters addressed to Giselle and Maria, to be handed to them when their moods would be better. Ariman waved the couple off saying, "Don't worry about it, I'll console them! Maybe now that they're like that, I should just get them for myself!" he joked. Or at least, Yaroslav hoped that last one was a joke. Though it didn't matter who his ex-lovers go out with from then on, he still found the idea irritating somehow. Perhaps, he too, needed time to get over it.

In any case, the newlywed couple then set off for their new life together. A journey that would eventually take them to the small village of Merridia.

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 **Author's Note: Thanks again for coming to this story! Some of you may have noticed, but I'm quite a fan of parallels, and what I like even more than parallels is having parallel opposites. That Yaroslav's backstory bears similarities to Paul's is no coincidence of creative direction on my part. I like exploring just such parallels as a means of juxtaposing decisions and outcomes.**

 **Some of you may also wonder why I'm bothering to write a long-winded backstory for an OC who only had a bit of screen time (it's called a screen time, right? Even though it's not a visual medium?). The real answer is something you'll only get many arcs from now, so I can't say much here. What I will say is that Chapters 5.5 wasn't part of my original draft. The content of the story told here was meant to be told much, much later. But, I figured that by then, interest in this OC would have cooled off, for myself included, hence my decision to put the backstory here. Besides, there's the whole convention with putting backstories when the relevant characters have just died, right? Like the saying goes, "strike the iron while it's still hot", or something.**

 **Next part (Chapter 5.5.3) should be released during the weekends, probably, assuming I can finish polishing the last portions of this backstory in time. So, stay tuned for that!**


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